


Pandora's Hart - The Finished Story

by SusieB (NoriandeR2006)



Category: Hart to Hart
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 74,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26416951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoriandeR2006/pseuds/SusieB
Summary: This is a story started by Kris that I found online many, many years ago.  It was unfinished, and she never responded to my emails.  I doubt it's an idea I would ever have dared - or even thought - to propose myself...these are the HARTS we're talking about, after all! (You'll see what I mean.) But it was already out there and I HAD to have a resolution, to know how they would deal with such circumstances.  So when nothing appeared to be forthcoming after a few years of waiting, I set out to resolve it myself, and thus began my journey as a fanfic (co)author.   I filled in a bit here and there, then built on the foundation she created.  Eventually I shared it in an old H2H yahoo group, and then online om the Stefanie Powers Archive, but neither site exists anymore.  I'm happy to be able to share it here!Kris's original three parts can still be found on this site:  http://www.angelfire.com/ny/fanficarchive/kris.html .
Relationships: Jennifer Hart/Jonathan Hart, Jennifer Smith/Scott Bonsaint
Comments: 17
Kudos: 12





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pandora's Hart](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/682618) by Kris. 



> This is a story started by Kris that I found online many, many years ago. It was unfinished, and she never responded to my emails. I doubt it's an idea I would ever have dared - or even thought - to propose myself...these are the HARTS we're talking about, after all! (You'll see what I mean.) But it was already out there and I HAD to have a resolution, to know how they would deal with such circumstances. So when nothing appeared to be forthcoming after a few years of waiting, I set out to resolve it myself, and thus began my journey as a fanfic (co)author. I filled in a bit here and there, then built on the foundation she created. Eventually I shared it in an old H2H yahoo group, and then online om the Stefanie Powers Archive, but neither site exists anymore. I'm happy to be able to share it here!
> 
> Kris's original three parts can still be found on this site: http://www.angelfire.com/ny/fanficarchive/kris.html .

**Part One**

_The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone  
I may have lost my way now, having forgotten my way home_

_I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
With a broken heart that's still beating  
In the pain there is healing  
In your name I find meaning  
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on  
I'm barely holdin' on to you  
  
_

\- Lifehouse, “Broken”

*****

(December 31)

“Jo-”

Jennifer was cut off by the violent jarring of the Mercedes as a large black van pulled out in front of them. The car groaned in metallic pain as it began a head over feet tumble towards the shoulder of the road. The screams of the passengers within were drowned by the horrific wails of metal tearing from its frame.

Jennifer turned towards her husband, hoping to catch a glimpse. But consciousness fractured like the front windshield and shattered into a thousand jagged pieces, raining on the helpless occupants.

*****

The phone rang only once before a wrinkled, weathered hand swooped it up. “Yes.”

“The objective has been taken care of, Sir,” the disembodied voice assured.

“Thank you.”

*****

**4 1/2 months later**

Jonathan tossed and turned in his bed. The night was hot and sticky, despite the air conditioning. The sheets grabbed at his legs and tangled wildly. Frustrated, Jonathan jumped out of bed cursing under his breath. Out of habit, he looked to his wife’s side of the bed, and the emptiness there battered at his heart relentlessly. Closing his eyes against the onset of pain, Jonathan turned on his heel and made his way to the kitchen.

Before he even reached the door, he saw a familiar yellow-warm glow spilling into the hallway. The low murmur of Max and Freeway conversing was comforting and Jonathan afforded himself a small, strained smile. Noiselessly he walked into the kitchen.

"Hey, Mr. H!" Max’s feigned joviality jarred them both, and Max turned away. The teapot began whistling and Max busied himself with the preparations of their nightly tea.

It was a ritual, you see. One that had been performed every single day since the night Jonathan was released from the hospital, weeks after that fateful night. When they’d finally arrived home, after retracing every step taken by Lt. Grey since it had all happened, they had immediately headed to the kitchen for a discussion. They’d reverted back to the days when Jonathan was just a kid and he used to hang out in the kitchen of Max’s employers. They would solve the world’s problems. Only, that night, the problems couldn’t be solved….

*****

(January 17)

"She’s gone, Max." His voice was sandpaper rough, tears causing the jaggedness of his soul and his speech. “I can’t believe this is happening!”

Max was stunned silent by Mr. H’s admission. He stood unbelievingly for a few minutes before he managed to gather his wits. He’d always suspected that Mr. H’s love and attachment for Jennifer could be his undoing, if anything ever happened to her. Oh, they’d been in scrapes before, faced death and separation. But it had always been brief – things were resolved quickly. And he’d seen the signs, before. But this was different. Very different, and he was worried about his friend. Both of them. Though no one blamed Max for what had happened, he tried to control his own grief and guilt in order to be there for Mr. H. He knew he had to keep him sane, grounded, if they were ever to find her. For there was no trace of Mrs. H at all.

"I mean she’s gone." There had been no emotion in his voice that time. "Gone. But where, Max? Where?" he asked as he banged his fist on the table.

Max tried not to let his relief show. He waited for Jonathan to continue. He knew that he needed to talk about it, to process everything. It was better than holding it inside – something his boss was apt to do. For the first time, Max heard Jonathan’s own account of the accident, rather than what was in the police report. The story tumbled out. There was a black van, it had come out of no where. It nicked – hit - the Mercedes. The car spun out and flipped several times before coming to rest in a ditch. During the crash, Jonathan had fought to stay conscious, but Jennifer wasn’t so lucky. He had looked over at her where she lay against the passenger door window, and saw that she was unconscious…there was blood on her head, and, it seemed, everywhere. He tried to move toward her, but his left leg protested in fiery pain, and he knew it had to be broken. He was trapped and couldn’t reach her, so he called her name over and over, but she never stirred. He heard a whimper of pain once, and was relieved at a sign that she was alive. Someone must have called the paramedics, because they showed up almost instantly. It seemed to take an eternity for the EMTs to extract them from the car – he insisted that they see to his wife first…she was obviously the more critically injured, for all that he was trapped and couldn’t move. They were placed in separate ambulances, where Jonathan finally succumbed to unconsciousness. 

*****

At the hospital, he awoke and kept asking for her. They spoke to him in soothing tones meant to relax him, assuring him that she was in good hands. But they had no real news to tell him and he grew agitated as it became clear that the other ambulance had taken her to a different hospital. Jonathan sank unwillingly into darkness as they sedated him.

*****

When Max received the phone call that night and learned of the accident, and that the Harts were sent to different hospitals, _(‘Mr. H. won’t like that’_ he thought) he hesitated only a second in his decision. Jonathan was like a son to him, and although he would need surgery to help repair his broken leg, Max understood that Mrs. H’s injuries were more severe, and that Mr. H. would not leave anyone alone – let alone rest – until he had news of her from a trusted source. He headed out the door to find her at L.A. Methodist.

*****

Jennifer felt nothing but blinding pain, but she struggled to wake up, to open her eyes, all the same. She instinctively knew that she had to, to live. She felt a need to see _him_ , someone, that made her heart ache with longing, but her mind was cloudy and confused. She had to wake up, to find him, find out how he was, assure him that she’d be all right. She could see his eyes, his smile, in her mind – some details were clear, but the rest, fuzzy. She could hear him calling her name – Jennifer, that’s it – his voice full of worry, and fear, and love. But everything else was blank. What had happened? She couldn’t bring it back to her mind, which ached so. She fought to keep the images she had - his smile, his voice - but everything was fading away.

The ER nurse saw her stirring and went to her side.

“How do you feel? Can you hear me?”

“Where am I? Where is he? What happened?” Jennifer mumbled, almost incoherent.

“You were in an accident – do you remember anything?”

Images flooded her mind but were gone – a car…his eyes…another car…the sound of screeching, ripping metal… She winced and could not get the words out, unable to fight the pain in her head and body any longer. As the pain enveloped her, pushing out all other thoughts, she also felt the visions leaving her mind, leaving her feeling bereft as she lost consciousness again. The doctors and nurses worked hard to keep their patient alive, to stabilize her…aware that her recovery was going to be a long and painful struggle.

*****

When he awoke again the next day, Jonathan ignored the pain he was feeling and again asked about his wife. A kind nurse told him she had called the other hospital to inquire on her condition, and assured him that she was very much alive, if badly injured, and had even woken up briefly in the ER. Jonathan was flooded with relief to have any news of her, however incomplete, and this time he fell into an easier sleep. He had suffered a concussion and a badly broken leg, now held together with pins and a full-length cast, but he would need only time to heal.

*****

When Max arrived at Cedars Sinai, his heart was heavy. Although Mrs. H. had reportedly awoken in the ER at L.A. Methodist, she had lapsed back into unconsciousness. The doctors told him that she was in critical condition – they were waiting for her condition to stabilize to decide what she needed next. Her arm had been set, ribs taped, and scrapes and cuts had been treated, and she’d had a head injury as well. It had startled him to see her so banged up. He had stayed with her, held her hand, and talked to her.

“Mr. H is at another hospital, but they say he’s doing okay. A broken leg and a concussion. But he’s going to be fine. Really, Mrs. H.”

She moaned softly, as if trying to communicate, and he squeezed her hand. He kept talking and she settled a bit but remained unresponsive. Finally, the need to see Mr. H, too, had driven him reluctantly away from her side and he’d left for Cedars.

*****

When he got to Jonathan’s room, he found him in a light, disturbed sleep. He touched him lightly on the arm and Jonathan awoke with a start and winced, his bruised ribs and broken leg – in a sling – protesting the sudden movement. He was still groggy from the medication, but tried to shake it off.

“Take it easy, Mr. H.”

“Max! When did you get here? Have you seen Jennifer?” He was groggy and obviously feeling some pain, so Max called the nurse who gave him some pain meds in his IV. Then he answered Jonathan’s questions.

“Yeah, Mr. H. I went to find her first – I knew you’d need to know from me.”

“How is she? Is she okay? They haven’t told me anything.”

Max looked solemnly into Jonathan’s eyes, begging him with his own to try to be calm.

“She’s pretty bad, Mr. H, but she’s alive and holding her own. They’re waiting for her condition to stabilize.”

“Did she wake up?” he asked, his eyes closing in worry as well as pain.

Max shook his head. “They say she did in the ER, and I stayed with her for quite a while, but she didn’t wake up. I think she knew I was there, though. I hated to leave her but I needed to see you, too, and I knew you’d be driving yourself and the staff here crazy with questions.”

“Thanks, Max,” he said, trying to sit up. “I need to get out of here, and over to LA Meth-”

“Mr. H! Your leg’s in a full cast and strung up like a piñata! You’re not going anywhere. We need to wait and hear what the doctor says.”

Jonathan reacted as Max knew he would, with frustration and anger at his plight and his desperate need to see Jennifer with his own eyes and talk to her – he _knew_ she’d respond to his voice. He had to get to her! 

But a nurse arrived and, seeing his agitated state, said, “Mr. Hart! You’ll only hurt yourself worse acting like that. You need to rest -”

“I can’t – not until I see my wife.”

“Then we’ll have to help you rest for now,” she said gently, as she injected a sedative in to his IV. 

“No, please…”

“No arguments, now. That bump on your head needs time to heal.”

“Jennifer…. Max, look after her, please,” Jonathan said as he slipped into sleep.

“I will, Mr. H. I promise.”

*****

After making sure that Mr. H was out for a while, Max lost no time finding his doctor and getting an update.

“Who are you? Are you family?”

“Yes, I am. I’m authorized to act on behalf of Mr. and Mrs. Hart. How’s he doing?”

“He needs only time to recover fully. He was very lucky – it could have been much worse,” the doctor said.

“That’s a relief. Did you happen to get any word on Mrs. Hart? Why was she taken to a different hospital – why LA Methodist? Why not here as well?”

“One of our nurses did some checking but wasn’t able to learn much. I don’t know why she’d be transported somewhere else – that’s the emergency squad’s call. I understand our ER was very busy last night.”

“Look, is there any way he can be moved there?” Max felt he knew the answer already.

“Well, Mr. Hart needs to remain still for a while – his leg suffered a serious compound fracture and must remain immobilized, and his head injury requires time – fortunately it isn’t severe. Perhaps in a few days. As for Mrs. Hart, I understand only that her injuries were more serious – it probably wouldn’t be advisable to move her, but you’d have to speak with her doctors.”

“Yeah, okay. Thank you, Dr. - ”

“Clark.”

“Dr. Clark.”

Max found a seat in the hall, his worry beginning to overwhelm him as he ran out of things to do; he realized how exhausted he really was. Suddenly he thought about Freeway, and decided to go home, feed Freeway and take him for a short walk, and get a shower and something to eat himself. He needed to stay alert, and watch out for Mr. and Mrs. H, and take care of their affairs while they recovered. Mr. H would be out for a while, and he’d check with Mrs. H’s doctors later in the morning.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

I'm on my knees  
only memories  
are left for me to hold  
  
Don’t know how  
but I’ll get by  
Slowly pull myself together  
  
There’s no escape  
So keep me safe  
This feels so unreal  
\- Kate Havnevik, “Grace” 

*****

When Max arrived at LA Methodist later that day, the doctor informed him that there had been no change in Jennifer’s condition, which he considered to be grave. He went over the extent of her injuries with him – she was pretty banged up, but her head injuries were the most worrisome, which alarmed Max greatly. The doctor said the best doctors for her injuries were at Cedars, and if she was stable enough soon they would consider moving her, but it would be risky.

“You just see that she gets the best care available!” Max said.

Later in the evening it was decided to move her by helicopter – they said that the best facilities just weren’t available at LA Methodist. They would wait over night to allow her more time to gain some strength. Max went to call Mr. H with the news, glad to find him awake and alert.

“What’s happening, Max? How’s Jennifer?”

“It’s serious but she’s in stable condition, Mr. H, but she’s also still unconscious. The good news is that they decided to move her to Cedars by helicopter – the facilities are better here and they feel she’s stable enough to make the trip.”

Jonathan felt relieved, on one hand, yet stressed not to be in the loop and making the decisions for his wife’s care. But if he couldn’t, he knew he could trust Max to do so. Of course, Max also had a legal right to do so, since Jonathan and Jennifer had long since agreed to that and made him their power of attorney in their absence or if either were incapacitated. Their lives were too unpredictable, and full of danger, not to have their most trusted friend able to make decisions on their behalf. So Jonathan tried to relax; if he couldn’t be there to take charge, he could trust Max to know what to do and make the decision. And he would rest easier if she were nearby.

“Everything will be all right, Mr. H.” Max could easily guess his train of thought.

“When are they moving her?” he asked, tired.

“Tonight, maybe, or in the morning.”

“Stay with her, Max. I’ll feel better knowing you’re there.”

“I will, Mr. H. I’ll keep you updated as soon as I know anything more.”

“Okay, Max. Thanks.”

”Sure thing, Mr. H. I’ll call again later.”

“Bye, Max.” Max could tell that he was tired and hoped that he’d be able to rest for a while.

*****

They hospital staff were hesitant to allow him to accompany her, but in the end he prevailed on a kind nurse, who showed him the way to the helipad. But the helicopter crew didn’t like it, and tried to talk him out of going. When he insisted and tried to board the helicopter, saying, “where she goes, I go,” one of the attendants shoved him away and he fell to the ground, hitting his head, as the man closed the door, shouting for the pilot to go. Max looked up from the ground and saw a look on the man’s face that he didn’t like…he tried to shrug off the bad feeling he had as he lay on the ground, bleeding, and watched the helicopter take off. 

Once it was gone, an attendant came running out to assist him, but Max was okay – angry, concerned, but not hurt badly. He asked the attendant how long it would take the helicopter to make the trip to Cedars Sinai, and if he would call ahead to make sure they’d be ready when it arrived. He did so while Max left to drive there. He used the car phone on the way to call the police, insisting on talking to Lt. Herschel Grey, and asked him to meet him at Cedars immediately.

“Something’s not right, Lieutenant. I don’t know what, but there was something not right about that guy – something my gut’s telling me.”

“Okay, Max. I’ll meet you at the helipad at Cedars.”

*****

Jonathan was awake and anxious. What was taking so long? Where was Max, and what was happening with Jennifer? He had to know, but couldn’t do anything but _wait_. He hated waiting! He felt helpless and out of control – two conditions he really didn’t like and rarely found himself in – especially when it was about Jennifer. She was all he could think about. At least his head didn’t hurt as much as before.

*****

Max went straight to the helipad when he arrived at Cedars, where he found Lt. Grey, who was raising hell with an anxious hospital staff, who were wondering where their expected patient was. No one seemed to know anything about her arrival by helicopter. They had no records of it – and she simply wasn’t there. The helicopter had not arrived yet. They couldn’t possibly still be in transit, Max thought. His sense of dread was rapidly mounting. 

“Lieutenant! What’s going on? Where’s Mrs. H?”

“The helicopter hasn’t arrived. We’re trying to raise it on the radio now.”

But they never received an answer. The helicopter had simply vanished. They called LA Methodist, but no one on duty in the ER or ICU knew anything of her whereabouts – only that there was no patient there by the name Jennifer Hart. 

_“What am I going to tell Mr. H?”_ But Max put off the thought for the time being, knowing he couldn’t go to him without something, anything, to tell him…. He could only hope that he was resting and hadn’t yet noticed how much time was passing.

Lt. Grey got on the phone to his unit and began having them search, discreetly. The waiting was unbearable, and rather than sit around doing nothing, Max accompanied Lt. Grey back to LA Methodist, where they investigated quietly, retracing everywhere Max had been, or known Mrs. H to be, while there. They found no trace of her, no records at all, after her time in the ER. No one knew anything of a patient named Jennifer Hart. She wasn’t there. Lt. Grey had some of his plain-clothes detectives do a room by room search, but it resulted in nothing.

They returned to Cedars with nothing. There had been no reports of a helicopter crash, nor that it had gone to another hospital in the Los Angeles area by mistake. They broadened the search to surrounding region, and knew it was time to tell Mr. H.

*****

Lt. Grey dreaded the moment he’d have to tell Jonathan Hart, a man he knew well and liked and respected greatly, that his badly injured wife was missing. He had always envied the obvious love and passion the Harts felt for each other. Like Max, Herschel recognized that Jennifer made her already-formidable husband stronger, but that she could also be his Achilles heel, under the right circumstances. He was afraid that this would prove to be one of those times, and worried about the effect this would have on his friend. 

“Lieutenant, you’d better let me tell him.” Max thought it’d be better coming from him.

“Okay, Max. Let’s go.”

They stopped at the nurses’ station and asked for the doctor, wanting an update on Jonathan’s condition before going in. Dr. Clark assured them that he was progressing, but slowly.

“He is preoccupied about his wife, and restless.”

“He doesn’t like being in the dark where Mrs. H is concerned,” Max said.

“Understandably so.” The doctor didn’t know that half of it.

Lt. Grey said, “What we have to tell him is going to make it worse, Doctor, but we can’t put it off any longer.”

“I’ll have the nurse ready a tranquilizer, in case it becomes necessary. I don’t like over-sedating my patients, but in Mr. Hart’s case the rest he’d get from it would be desirable. He’s too worked up to be getting any rest, and that’s what he needs most to recover from his concussion, and give that leg a chance.”

Finishing with the doctor, Max and Lt. Grey went to Jonathan’s room. No matter what, they knew it wouldn’t be a pleasant interview. They found him awake and waiting impatiently.

“Max, what happened to you?” Jonathan asked, seeing the bandage.

Max’s mouth went dry, and he had difficulty answering. Jonathan took in the distress on his face, as well as Herschel Grey’s presence, and grew alarmed. He’d already given his statement to the police.

“What’s going on? Has Jennifer’s helicopter arrived yet? Where is she?”

For all that Max had meant to be the one to tell him, he found that he couldn’t. He blamed himself. He sat down, unable to answer his boss, his friend, who was like a son to him. But he looked up when Jonathan spoke.

“Max?” Jonathan’s eyes pleaded with Max to tell him everything was okay, that Jennifer was okay. He realized then that Mr. H would fear the worst, so he’d try to explain. With tears in his eyes, he faced him and the words came out in a rush, incoherently.

“I was going with her in the helicopter, but they wouldn’t let me get on. He pushed me, I fell, and they left, they, they just left without me. Mr. H, I’m sorry, so sorry.”

“What is going on? I’m glad you’re okay, Max, but the helicopter should be here by now.” Jonathan was afraid to think there was more.

Herschel stepped in then; he could see that Max’s worry and feelings of responsibility was getting in the way, that the situation was still not clear to Jonathan. 

“Jonathan, as far as we know Jennifer is fine - ”

“What do you mean, as far as you know?”

“Jonathan,” Herschel stepped closer to the bed, trying to get him to focus. “Jennifer was still unconscious, but stable, when they put her on the helicopter. The attendant refused to allow Max to get on board. And…”

“And, Herschel? What are you trying to tell me?”

“The helicopter never arrived here at Cedars.”

Jonathan’s face went white, and his heart rate doubled. Max saw his panicked reaction and guessed what he was thinking, so before he could get too far with that train of thought, he went and gripped his hand, saying, “No, Mr. H! That’s not it!” But he stopped as Herschel continued just as quickly.

“Now, Jonathan, take it easy! Look at me! There have been no helicopter crashes – do you hear me? It was the first thing we checked. Max called me on his way over here from LA Methodist - he felt something was not right after the incident on the helipad, and trusted his instincts. So did I. I met him here at Cedars and we got on this very quickly when it was clear that the helicopter hadn’t, and probably wasn’t, going to get here. We’re searching other hospitals, but so far there is no sign that the flight was redirected. We’ve been back to LA Methodist, we’ve gone over every inch of it. She’s not there.” He wiped a hand across his face, his head, not sure how to continue. 

As Herschel spoke, Jonathan’s mind had begun to reel with a myriad of implications as he tried to follow what they were telling him. He grasped that Jennifer was – had been - presumably okay, or at least her condition had been unchanged, but that she was also not at Cedars, where she was supposed to be. But there hadn’t been a crash… _there had_ not _been_ _another one_ …he held onto that fact like a lifeline. Yet he could do nothing – absolutely nothing! – about any of it. He suddenly found he was having trouble breathing. 

Herschel noticed and quickly called the nurse. “I think he’s hyperventilating.” The nurse got a bag and had him breathe into it, sitting him up as best he could manage with his leg in a sling. Then she left to get the sedative.

Jonathan knew he had to clear his head. He took deep breaths into the bag, and waved off Max’s assistance, saying he was all right. He put the bag aside and lay back on the pillows, exhausted. He wanted a clear idea of what was happening before the nurse came back, as he knew she would. He didn’t want to be sedated again. He wanted to know every detail they could tell him.

“Jennifer is missing, that’s what happened? That’s what you’re telling me?”

“Yes, Mr. H.” Max finally spoke again, from the chair where he’d sat again. Jonathan could see he blamed himself.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Max?”

“No, Mr. H, I’m not all right! I was responsible for seeing she got here - ” Jonathan held a hand out to Max – he who had been a father to him when he’d had none, and had been his, and Jennifer’s, most trusted, loyal friend ever since. He could see this was tearing him up and didn’t want him to think he blamed him for, for whatever this was.

“Max!”

Max went to his bedside and gripped his hand. “I’m so sorry, Mr. H! I, I lost her…”

“No, Max, I don’t think so – whatever is happening, it’s not your fault. I don’t want you thinking that way. Let’s just find a way to solve this, and find her.” He included Herschel in his gaze.

So they spent a few minutes going over what they knew – it wasn’t much. Jonathan was visibly exhausted and frustrated at his immobility, his inability to get up and go looking for her himself. He could only listen as Herschel assured him that his detectives were on it, that everything possible was being done. And he couldn’t find anything to fault in Herschel’s efforts so far.

When the nurse returned, Jonathan didn’t want the sedative, but suddenly he felt weak, extreme fatigue setting into every muscle. His body needed a break from the extreme anxiety and tension he was experiencing, and in the end he didn’t put up much of a protest after all. Max and Lt. Grey exchanged glances. 

Gripping his hand again, Max said, “Rest, Mr. H. When you wake up I’ll be here with whatever news we have. We’ll find her, Mr. H, we will. I promise.” Jonathan just nodded, already drowsy, but Max could see the grief and loss in his face that he’d barely managed to mask during their conversation.

“Jennifer….” Her name was the last thing he said before the sedative took effect and he slept. The longing in his voice broke Max’s heart. He looked at Lt. Grey, knowing he’d heard it as well, and saw a look of determination cross his face. In that glance Max knew that they had a staunch ally, committed to helping them find her, no matter what the cost.

They left the room and again found the doctor, and related what had happened. He agreed to monitor Jonathan’s condition very carefully over night, and to keep him sedated so he could regain strength and give his head time to heal more completely. 

Herschel also posted a police guard outside Jonathan’s door, since they had no idea what was going on and if Jonathan would also be target. But no threat appeared; all remained quiet in his wing of Cedars. 

Max spent every available minute either assisting Lt. Grey as he could, or staying with Mr. H. He was very concerned for him; when he was awake, Jonathan was either agitated, angry at his own incapacity, railing to have news from the police investigation, or he was worried and depressed, his moods swinging from one extreme to another without much warning. His recovery was slowed by the stress the situation was putting on his body. Max and Herschel enlisted the nursing staff’s help in keeping Jonathan sedated as much as possible and from knowing exactly how much time was passing; Max suspected there’d be a reckoning between them over that at some point, but he was looking after Mr. H’s health and well-being, too, and would remain unrepentant on that score. Max also kept in contact with Hart Industries, glad that Deanne and Stanley had things well in hand, working closely with the very capable board of directors to keep the company running smoothly. He distracted Mr. H with minor business concerns whenever he could; sometimes it worked, at least for short periods, and sometimes it didn’t.

*****

Jennifer’s disappearance quickly became considered a kidnapping case. Marie, Max’s friend, volunteered to stay at the house with Freeway and to wait for any calls, since her own employers were gone on an extended trip abroad. The police tapped the phones. But no ransom call ever came. Jennifer had simply vanished without a trace.

Gone. Alive, presumably, but gone.

*****

Angelo DeBartelli was pleased with his arrangements. He’d only meant to scare the Harts, perhaps kidnap the wife – but not get them both killed. That oaf he’d hired had gone almost too far. If Jonathan Hart had died that night, all of his fun would have been spoiled. He wanted to torment the man, as he had been tormented when his daughter had been taken from him. And it had been Jonathan Hart’s fault – of that he was certain. And so, Jonathan Hart would suffer as he had – suffer the loss of that which he held most dear, that which he loved more than life itself. So far things were working out according to the new plan….


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

_I feel the cold  
Loneliness unfold  
Like from another world  
  
Come what may  
I won’t fade away  
But I know I might change  
  
Nothing comes easily  
Fill this empty space  
Nothing is like it was  
Turn my grief to grace  
  
Nothing comes easily  
Where do I begin?  
Nothing can bring me peace  
I’ve lost everything  
I just want to feel your embrace  
\- Kate Havnevik, “Grace”_

*****

(January 17)

After a recovery hampered by stress and anxiety, they finally allowed Jonathan to go home, with strict instructions to rest and not overdo it.

“Don’t over-use that leg, Mr. Hart. Use the crutches. You don’t want to risk a permanent limp, or be unable to use it at all. Come back in six weeks to have the cast removed. Then you’ll have physical therapy to do to rebuild muscle strength.”

Jonathan just nodded, seemingly withdrawn, but Max knew better. No sooner were they in the car than he wanted Max to take him to LAM.

“Mr. H! You’re still in a full leg cast! The doctor said you’re to rest.”

“Just take me there, Max. I need to go there. And the accident site. I need to think! They kept me too doped up in there, and I’ve lost so much time. Just take me, and then I’ll go home and rest.”

Max refrained from rolling his eyes – he understood, and had actually expected no less. Jonathan would need to see the crash site, visit the LA Methodist ER and talk to the doctors and nurses himself. 

“Okay, but it’ll be in a chair,” he said.

*****

It was not a fruitful trip, and they learned nothing new. Lt. Grey had nothing to add from interviewing the staff – nothing had seemed out of the ordinary, except for the helicopter. The call had apparently been canceled, although no record of that could be found. Someone came to get her – but who? And to what end? _Where was his wife??_ Jonathan thought he’d lose his mind with worry, and anger, and frustration that he couldn’t run right out and find her, save her. And the trail, if there was one, was getting cold. That she would not only be taken from him, but while in such a fragile, life-threatening state…it was more than he could bear, and that, along with his own injuries and slow recovery, threatened to immobilize him.

*****

Jonathan searched tirelessly for weeks, hampered by his physical weakness, even once the cast came off. He needed a cane to keep going at all. Exhaustion finally overtook him, and he succumbed to a slight case of pneumonia. Then the depression hit and, like old times, Max had to kick Jonathan in the rear to make him see the light.

"She’s out there, Mr. H. And she’s waiting for you. Maybe she can’t remember or maybe she can’t help herself, but she’s waiting for you. And you’re going to find her. But you can’t find her if you’re dead or you don’t care about yourself."

"Why should I care, Max? She was my life."

"She _is_ your life, Mr. H. And you’re hers, too. You’re all she has left and you can’t give up. If you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself, to care about yourself, at _least_ care about her."

That inflamed Jonathan. How dare Max question him like that? But the moment passed and as Jonathan cried in the arms of his old friend, he resolved to find his wife, no matter what.

But the nights haunted Jonathan. He was ripped from dream night after night when he would reach for her and find a cold void. Jonathan took solace in Max’s tea and their quiet talks.

And as Jonathan slowly sipped his Earl Grey he wondered, for the millionth time, where Jennifer was. And he prayed with every ounce of faith he had that she was safe.

*****

Jennifer had indeed been spirited away, farther than anyone could imagine a woman in her condition could go. The unknown, unregistered helicopter made its way north, north across the border into Canada, where she was transported to a different helicopter and flown, without any record of her identity, to St. Christopher’s Hospital outside Vancouver. She was well cared for there, thought to be a victim of a fall in the wilderness. One doctor in particular was charged with her care.

 _“Take good care of her, and you’ll be handsomely paid.”_ The man had said. And he knew, knew of that time in Scott Bonsaint’s life…well, he’d had no choice but to comply. At first, he presumed that it wouldn’t be difficult - he was a doctor, after all. Time would tell what the next step would be. No one else knew of the arrangement. He was to report on her progress directly to the man, and to await further instructions. That was the part that Dr. Scott Bonsaint dreaded.

*****

When Jennifer had finally awoken, weeks later, in the Vancouver suburb’s hospital, and DeBartelli had received the report, he was thrilled. She was awake, but couldn’t remember anything – just her first name. It couldn’t have gone better if he’d actually planned it! It would be easy to control her; she wouldn’t even be trying to get back to her husband. He began forming his plans, and gave Scott Bonsaint his instructions. He’d keep his own hands clean of the matter. He told the doctor: _Get to know her. Convince her of her horrible, lonely past. Get her to trust him, even love him. Then hide her away from the world, and get her to desire it – the solitude, and peace, away from the rest of humanity, where no one would ever find her._ And Jonathan would spend his life in tortured agony – not knowing if she were dead or alive. He smiled and laughed at the thought.

*****

(March 21)

"Mr. H," Max tapped Jonathan lightly on the shoulder.

"Not now, Max."

Max peered over Jonathan’s shoulder, trying to see what held Jonathan’s interest so fully. Black and white 8x10 photos littered his desk. The filtered light from the single lamp cast haunting shadows across the garish photographs. The topmost picture showed their yellow Mercedes crunched and crumpled as if it were merely a piece of paper. The windshield was scattered around the car in small, shimmering chunks. Another image, partly hidden beneath the corner of another, depicted the path torn through the turf on the side of the road. In the distance, the car sat upended. Max accompanied Jonathan’s shiver; the pictures showed such devastation.

Jonathan closed his eyes. He’d studied these photographs so many times yet they still had such power over him. Remembering the accident, and Jennifer’s unmoving, unconscious form beside him, covered with blood, never ceased to horrify him. He went over the other details of her case – everything he had. She’d gone to LAM. Max had seen her there. The staff in the ER remembered her. But no one else there remembered anything: Checking her out. Taking her to the helipad. No one in the ICU would acknowledge that she’d ever been there. They hadn’t been able to track all of the staff down – some had moved on to other jobs, presumably, and not responded to inquiries. It was as if she hadn’t existed after leaving the ER. No records were found relating to her care. Nothing. Nothing. In a burst of anger he swept the file from the desk, papers and photos scattering across the floor, and buried his head in his hands. It had been weeks – he had begun to lose track of how many. It seemed an eternity. How was it possible that someone so vital, and so vitally important to him, could – _poof_ – seemingly cease to exist? He had to believe that she was still alive – he had to, or there would be no point to life for him anymore. He looked bleakly at Max, who placed his hand on his arm, then bent over and began retrieving the contents of the folder. If it weren’t for Max, taking care of him, keeping him sane, Jonathan knew, in the back of his mind, that he could have gotten lost in his grief. And then who would help Jennifer?

They’d searched hospitals all over California – no, the entire Western seaboard of the U.S. – what few leads there were of Jane Doe patients matching Jennifer’s description hadn’t panned out. They worked closely with the police, but he could tell that they were running out of options and leads – it had become just another long shot, a missing persons case joining many others. Lt. Grey kept the file open, and a couple of detectives involved when he could spare them, but as the trail grew colder more immediate, solvable cases arose. Jonathan knew that Herschel would continue to help as he could, but that he and Max were otherwise on their own.

*****

(March 25)

When the call came, it was the first inkling of a lead in weeks. 

“There’s a Mrs. Blaurosen on the phone, Mr. H. She’ll only talk to you - says it’s urgent.” Max said, entering the office that Mr. H seemed to live in these days. He’d all but given up going to the office of Hart Industries. His trusted staff took care of everything – he appeared at board meetings, but even they were functioning largely without him. Max and Deanne helped the lawyers watch out for the company, keeping Mr. H informed of decisions to be made.

Jonathan frowned. He had no idea who this was. He took the call, and was surprised and shocked – their first real lead!

“Mr. Hart? This is Kathy Blaurosen…I used to be on the medical staff at LA Methodist. Can we meet?”

Jonathan’s heart leapt, but he contained his excitement.

“Where? Just name the place.”

*********

Jonathan shifted from foot to foot in the elevator, keeping his eyes trained on the illuminated number above his head. 3, 4, 5. The car stopped and Jonathan let out a sigh of frustration. The doors opened and there was an exchange of bodies. Before the last person had even cleared the doors, Jonathan reached out and roughly thumbed the "shut door" button, followed by the already-lit number 6.

"Hey, man, where’s the fire?" Another passenger mumbled behind him. Jonathan turned and pinned the offender with his eyes. The intern managed to look sheepish for a second before he motioned his chin towards the numbers. "This is your stop, isn’t it?"

The bell clanged and Jonathan was off and running. He maneuvered the yellowed hallways expertly and found himself standing in front of Dr. Blaurosen’s doorway in no time. The wood was rough and unforgiving beneath his rapping knuckles.

"Yeah, come on in." Jonathan blew through the door, a torrent of energy and anger. He stopped short at the sight of the petite woman sitting behind the desk, a phone balanced between her shoulder and her ear. She was not at all the Wicked Witch of the West Wing Jonathan had thought she would be, selfishly hoarding all the secrets of the ward under her pointy hat. She, instead, looked more like the harried executive as she motioned him to sit with her pen.

"Uh huh. Yeah," she jotted down a few notes on a yellow legal pad. "I’ll have to call you back, Frank. My appointment is here."

After replacing the phone, Dr. Blaurosen took a few more seconds to write then turned her full attention back to Jonathan. Brown eyes captured Jonathan’s blue ones and they stared each other down for a few seconds. Dr. Blaurosen broke the silence first.

“Mr. Hart, thanks for coming.”

Jonathan cut right to the chase.

"Let’s start with you explaining to me the code of silence that you and your staff have kept since my wife disappeared from _your_ hospital."

"Mr. Hart, no woman by the name of Jennifer Hart was admitted—" Dr. Blaurosen stopped dead at the narrowing of Jonathan’s eyes. "Not the story you wanted to hear?"

"Try again."

"There are rules, Mr. Hart," she began, "As an executive in high power, I’m sure you know all about the bureaucratic red tape the surrounds any kind of governmentally funded organization. There are forms to fill out, OK’s to get, signatures to find…and you and your wife were in an accident, Mr. Hart. Not only did I have my hands tied by this organization itself, but I was told specifically not to give out any details--"

Jonathan cut her off. "I wasn’t asking you for secrets of the state. I was asking you where my wife was!"

Dr. Blaurosen’s shoulders slumped in defeat. "I know, Mr. Hart."

Silence descended in the room and Jonathan watched the older woman compose herself. She was pretty, in a harried and unkempt way. Her would-be strikingly blonde hair hung dull and lifeless around her face. Dark circles rode beneath her eyes and her movements spoke volumes of her fatigue and stress. Jonathan could almost feel pity for the creature across from him, save for the fact that he nearly hated her and her "rules" for playing with him and for being so cavalier about his wife’s fate.

She finally looked up into Jonathan’s eyes. Her words were strong and concise, but there was a bitter sadness to her tone. "The truth is, my staff and I don’t know what happened. One minute she was in the ER, the next minute my attending physician was raising hell because he thought some joke was being played on him. An empty gurney was all he found in a hallway, and nobody could tell us where she had gone. Honestly, Mr. Hart, this hospital doesn’t need any bad publicity. And losing the wife of a multi-millionaire after a life-threatening car accident just oozes bad publicity."

"I can’t believe I’m hearing this!" Jonathan’s voice dropped from its strangled incredulity to a softer, more lethal tone. It amazed him how willingly people gambled with the lives of others. "You have jeopardized my wife’s life for months to escape bad publicity?! Dr. Blaurosen, I know every single reporter in this town. They would gladly crucify your institution on my command. They’re waiting to smell blood in the water on this story, Doctor, and you are dangerously close to becoming bait."

"Mr. Hart if it makes you feel any better, these decisions were not mine to make, but those on the board of directors of this hospital." Her voiced fell to just above a whisper and her eyes clouded with the pain that comes from keeping such a secret. "They don’t know I am having this conversation with you. I am risking my job to tell you these things, and I hope you understand how difficult it is for me to admit. I’m fully aware of my culpability if your wife is found injured or worse, Mr. Hart. And I live with that every day of my life."

Jonathan sat stunned for a few moments. "Why did you ask me here? To absolve yourself of your sins?"

Dr. Blaurosen pushed a file across the desk at him. "For several weeks now I’ve silently looked into your case. A young intern by the name of Michael Hadley claims to have some information about an airlift that occurred from this hospital to another about twenty minutes after your wife was checked into the ICU. I searched hospital records and found the paperwork, but it was missing large gaps of information. The only information I could get was that they were airlifting a patient with multiple, severe injuries to the trauma unit at Cedars-Sinai hospital. Apparently, time was of the essence and they didn’t manage to write down the patient’s name. And I haven’t found any of the required paperwork for such a move.

"Mr. Hart, there’s a definite chance your wife is lost in this city and she doesn’t know who or where she is. Memory loss, especially long-term memory loss, is quite common in victims with injuries similar to your wife’s. She may be waiting at Cedars, waiting to be found."

"If my wife was here in LA for me to find, Dr. Blaurosen, I would have found her," Jonathan replied. He regarded her for a second before holding out his hand to her. There was honor in her, somewhere, even if it was buried under years of living by the rules of the game.

"I believe you. You’ll find Hadley on the 3rd floor, pediatric unit. He’s probably cleaning bedpans and making beds. He can help you, Mr. Hart. Good luck." With that she stood and looked pointedly to the door. "You know the way out."

*****

“Apparently, the good doctor has forgotten our agreement. It’s time we showed her just how serious we are.” The distinguished older gentlemen looked at the two lackeys standing before him. “Fix it, or I will fix you.”

“Yes, sir,” the taller man said, stumbling towards the door. The smaller man stared at his older boss and sneered contemptuously before also backing out of the room.

The older gentleman steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. He stared absently around the dimly lit library. Jonathan Hart had managed to take away the most important thing in his life, and Angelo DeBartelli had spent years arranging his revenge.

“You will never find that with which you cannot live without, Mr. Hart. I assure you that.”

*********

(April 5)

Jennifer Smith, an ordinary name for a woman who wasn’t so ordinary, lay quietly in the arms of her lover, thinking about nothing in particular. She savored the feel of his strong arms, his warm breath stirring her hair gently. It was almost noon, and she and Scott hadn’t moved from their luxurious bed in their Canadian cabin. The bed was a minor extravagance that still made Jennifer cringe when she remembered the price tag, but it was well worth it. The down comforter surrounded them, frothy and white, making the bed more of a fantasy cloud than the oversized piece of furniture that it really was. No matter that they didn’t have a dresser or a night table. They had the bed.

Sunlight filtered through the blinds and the slivers of warmth lulled Jennifer into a drowsy haze. She didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep until she woke up with a strangled sob. Scott hovered over her, concern all over his face.

"Another one??" He pushed her hair off her forehead and placed a kiss there.

She could only nod. The nightmare was one she had regularly. An instant of supreme happiness, looking into the eyes of a handsome gentleman. But it was not to last, because even as she sat helplessly in the dream, spider-web cracks began crackling across her consciousness and the image shattered into jarring pain and helplessness. There was an overwhelming rushing noise followed by the high-pitched, frantic voice of Scott. And then it was over, as quickly as it had come. The dreams upset her, but she never told Scott why, or what they were like. Only that they were about the Before.

"Come on, let me get you a pill." He slithered out from behind her and padded barefoot into the bathroom. Jennifer climbed out after him and headed to the kitchen. The tile was cold against her feet, so she sat down at the table and folded them up underneath her. One nail tapped at the oak of the table absently and Jennifer rested her chin on her other hand.

The pill Scott spoke of was a small diamond-shaped bit of relief. Trioxcylene. He prescribed them for her while she was still in the hospital. They helped calm her nerves when the fractured memories and terrifying nightmares came. They helped suppress the Before. Before is what they called the missing 35 years that occurred prior to her arrival at St. Christopher’s hospital, in a helicopter, rescued from a mountain climbing accident. Before haunted Jennifer in every way, shape and form, and Scott seemed set on making the before disappear forever.

"Here, darling." The endearment made her jerk, a flash of recognition causing a shiver to trill through her. 

“Don’t call me that,” she said, not knowing why it mattered. He held out the pill to her, only concern alighting his features. A diamond-shaped bit of relief.

Jennifer grabbed the pill and knocked it back quickly. Goodbye, Before.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

_I don't know where to find you  
I don't know how to reach you  
I hear your voice in the wind  
I feel you under my skin  
Within my heart and my soul  
I wait for you  
  
_

_All of these nights without you  
All of my dreams surround you  
I see and I touch your face  
I fall into your embrace  
When the time is right I know  
You'll be in my arms_

_\- Lara Fabian, “Adagio”_

*****

The muted grays of hospital rooms were sterile and unfeeling and they did very little to calm the worried family members who waited impatiently in the waiting rooms. Plain slate carpeting met even plainer light-blue walls. The well-worn seats were also the same colorless shade, as were the tables, water cooler, and planters. Green-blue light buzzed from the overhead lights and lit the halls with a sickly shade. The entire hospital emanated the pallor of death, sickness and fear but Jonathan Hart didn’t notice a single detail. He walked the halls with the intensity of a man who wanted only one thing and who didn’t plan on slowing down until he found it.

Miranda Long sat at one of the plain gray desks and tapped absentmindedly at the temperamental, gray machine in front of her. Patient name, social security number, birth date…

"Excuse me." A voice cut through her mindless work and Miranda jumped. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the rumpled suit and cold blue eyes of the man across from her.

"Excuse me," Miranda said under her breath. "Can I help you?"

"Where is Michael Hadley?" The voice was no softer and Miranda recoiled. She made a big show of checking the papers in front of her, though they both knew she would not tell him Michael’s location in the hospital.

"Why, may I ask, do you need to find him? Is it an emergency?" Miranda tapped her pen against her keyboard and regarded Jonathan with barely held contempt. People flew into the hospital all the time and made demands of her and every once in a while, it really grated on her nerves. This was one of those times.

"My name is Jonathan Hart." Miranda’s eyes widened at that. "My name is Jonathan Hart and my wife disappeared at this hospital. I have spent that time looking for her and mourning her loss, and now I have heard that Mr. Hadley wants to speak to me regarding information about her disappearance. I want to speak to him. Now."

Miranda blinked at the figure in front of her. She knew of the disappearance of Jennifer Hart, it had been all over the news a few months ago. They constantly flashed pictures of the beautiful couple – the stunning redhead and her delicious husband. They smiled and looked as rich, if not richer, than they were. The pictures were always professionally taken and his smile made him look soft, even cuddly. They were nothing like the man standing in front of her. The light she had seen in his eyes on the news had been extinguished. His eyes, a warm, friendly, even sensual blue on her small TV set were now the color of ice. His grief was like another occupant in the room and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He looked broken, and yet, determined. Instantly, Miranda felt terrible. She looked contrite as she pointed down a hallway.

"He’s supposed to be mopping. At the end of the hall, turn left. Last door on the left is the supply closet. If you don’t run into him beforehand, he’ll be in there." She had barely finished her sentence when Mr. Hart took off with a jerky trot. She watched until he disappeared around a corner.

*********

The large pool of blood was the first thing Jonathan noticed when he turned the corner. It was a stark, sticky red against the blue-green of the room. The puddle was blossoming outwards in grasping fingers from under the door, spreading quickly as whatever it was that was bleeding continued to pump blood. He could almost see the steady beat of a fading heart in the spreading and it spurred him into action. Paying no mind, he slid through the slimy mess. The blood was already starting to gel and coagulate, as the body worked fruitlessly to staunch the flow. Tossing open the door, a limp body fell. It had obviously been leaning against the door. Pale green eyes looked into Jonathan’s. They conveyed a mortal fear and Jonathan felt his heart clench in response.

"Bssgrrrhft." Blood bubbled from the young man’s mouth as he tried to speak. He tried again, but still his voice would not come. Jonathan’s pale face merely looked down upon the prone body, unable to react. A blood-drenched hand reached towards Jonathan’s pant leg and with the strength of a newborn baby, tugged. Jonathan recoiled as if he had been burned and he broke into a flurry of activity.

"DOCTOR! I need a doctor!" He yelled, running back down the hall to the nurse’s station. "There’s a man and he’s hurt…I NEED A DOCTOR!"

Jonathan ran back to the young man and this time he didn’t hesitate to kneel beside him. He was very young, perhaps only about 25. A simple gold band decorated his left hand and Jonathan grimaced. He reached out tenderly and felt for a pulse. Nothing.

"Oh, God, Michael…" A young brunette nurse dropped next to Jonathan and immediately began pulling off the dead man’s clothes. A flurry of doctors and nurses came up behind her and they effectively pushed Jonathan out of the way. Two orderlies flew down the hall with a stretcher and the team lifted the body onto it. The doctors were shouting for a myriad of things, stat, and the knot of people trotted down the room with the stretcher. The single brunette nurse stayed behind and stared down at the blood. She wiped her hands off absentmindedly on her uniform.

"Who was he?" Jonathan asked quietly, but he already knew the answer.

"Michael Hadley." The woman sniffed once and wiped the back of her hand across her cheek. Blood smeared and, realizing what she had done, she blanched. "I’ve seen this a hundred times over, but never someone I know. Never a friend. I…have to go."

Jonathan watched quietly as she started down the hall, first at a slow walk but breaking into a run. The door to the ladies room slammed open and she disappeared.

"Damn." Jonathan’s head reeled. Not only was yet another lead to Jennifer gone, but a young man had died for it. Jonathan knew that whoever was concealing Jennifer’s whereabouts was serious about keeping them a secret. The elevator lurched downward and Jonathan stole a glance at his shoes. He saw the bloody handprint on his pant leg.

They are more than serious, he thought. But why? He felt the familiarity of despair as it began to grip him, but this time he pushed it aside. He had to _think_! He had no leads at all, now – nothing but dead ends. He realized that he had to change his approach. Much as it pained him, he had to focus more on his enemies. Someone was trying to torment him, to make them pay for something, and he had to discover what, and who, and why.

Jonathan knew the task could be fruitless, another blind alley, but strangely he no longer felt daunted. Instead, he felt determined. He would find their enemy and by doing so, he would find Jennifer. He would not stop until he was reunited with her. As he turned his steps toward home, oddly, they seemed lighter. It was time to get to work, he knew, but first he’d take a much-needed break. He’d seek her out, if only in spirit, in their favorite places - places that were special to them both. He needed to feel reconnected to her, in some way, instead of dwelling on his inability to do anything – that time was past. He would dwell on her, in his heart, and spend his time tracking down any enemies he, or she, may have. And he _would_ succeed.

He had to believe that she was still alive. She may be disabled by her injuries. She may not be herself – she may not remember, even, given her apparent head injuries…he shuddered at the thought, knowing it was a real possibility. He had been there, himself; he knew what that was like to not know who you were – to not know yourself. Only he had found her quickly, miraculously…. But if she had no memory, she would have no idea what to do, who to look for, and no familiar people or places or things to jog her recall. She would be essentially blind. If she were being held against her will somewhere, he would simply have to find her. There was no alternative, no matter how long it took. But he had to believe that she, too, no matter what her current circumstances, was seeking what she’d lost. Searching, trying to get back to him. For the first time in the months since the accident, hope infused him and made him feel strong again.

*****

Before…since waking at St. Christopher’s, Jennifer had tried to forbid her thoughts to ponder the Before. She’d been told at the hospital that she’d had a nasty fall, but also that there’d been signs of other injuries, older injuries…suggesting a past she might well be better off forgetting. She became convinced that she didn’t want to remember. She felt she was happy, or ought to be, with Scott. He was so caring, loving – he took care of her and protected her from the Before with the Trioxcylene. Wondering about the Before had only brought pain – an ache she couldn’t explain – and as she gradually put the pieces of her life, such as it was, back together, she imagined she could be content.

*****

Jennifer walked through the spacious cabin she and Scott shared and marveled at the view outside. The cabin was made entirely of wood and glass, more wood than glass. It blended in with their natural surroundings, including the décor. Everything was neutral. Overstuffed white couches, wooden end tables, stuffed game. The cabin itself was huge, plenty big enough for the both of them, and since her release from the hospital, it had become her haven.

The trees outside were very green, thanks to the recent rain. Canada was gorgeous in the springtime, and she was just getting ready for a hike in one of its beautiful forests. She laced up her tennis shoes and headed into the greenery. The air still held a bit of a sting from the rain and the branches dripped tears of rain onto the still-damp forest floor. It smelled clean and green and rejuvenated Jennifer.

During her hikes, her mind sometimes drifted, and as always, it drifted to the accident. That’s what they called her fall, although it had been suggested that maybe it hadn’t been one. She remembered nothing before waking up in a hospital and staring into Scott’s eyes. At the time he had been Dr. Bonsaint, and his eyes had reflected nothing but doctorly concern. He had checked on her regularly for a week before they spoke.

_"You’re lucky to be alive." His fingers felt papery against her wrist as he counted off the steady glub-glubbing of her heart. "Very lucky."_

_"I don’t feel lucky." Jennifer had fallen into a depression the moment she realized she could remember nothing but her own name. Jennifer. Jennifer what? Jennifer sans surname. "What was my name before?"_

_"Before what?" The doctor asked. Had she said it out loud? Dr. Bonsaint looked at her quizzically._

_"Before the_ accident _." His feigned ignorance irritated her and there was no mistaking the venom in her voice._

_"Jennifer, you know as much as I do. You were brought in by helicopter from the mountains, with only your own name on your lips." He let go of her wrist and motioned for her to open her mouth._

_"How do you know it was_ my _name, and not someone else’s name? My sister? My friend? My_" her voice broke. "My daughter."_

_"I don’t. But it seemed as good as any to call you." He plopped the thermometer under her tongue. "Now just relax."_

Once Jennifer had become accustomed to her plight, her anger at the doctors began to wear off. She would seek out Dr. Bonsaint’s company and together they would chat and laugh. The days had bled into weeks and it became popular opinion that Jennifer was physically healthy. The bumps and bruises had faded to yellow splotches and her cracked rib merely ached dully. Her arm was still in a cast. Her memories had not returned, and the nightmares were being controlled by the trioxcylene. 

Finally she had been released, but had nowhere to go. But she was sick of being in the hospital and left it gladly, checking into a motel recommended by one of the nurses, while she tried to figure out what to do. She’d felt so lost. When she ran into Dr. Bonsaint the following day at lunch, she’d been relieved to see a familiar face. They’d had a nice time, and, sensing her unease at being essentially homeless and directionless, to say nothing of having no income, he had offered her his family’s cabin in the mountains, saying she could stay as long as it took to get her bearings and decide what to do next; she could stay as long as she liked. She hadn’t been surprised; in fact, she’d been relieved to have a place to go, perhaps to belong, and she felt she could trust him. 

So he had spirited her away to this cabin, hidden in the forests outside Vancouver. No phones, no neighbors. The nearest market and telephone were two hours away. The solitude gave Jennifer lots of time to think, and gave her a new clarity. 

Scott had stayed away for a while, only dropping in occasionally to check on her and bring her groceries. It was several hours north of town, and his busy schedule at the hospital didn’t permit for many visits. No one at the hospital knew he had offered her a place to stay or that he saw her at all. Scott had his orders from DeBartelli, and much as he had disliked being manipulated into this whole thing, he didn’t see the harm in helping her. But as they got to know each other, she became more comfortable with him, and he’d begun to stay for longer periods of time. He found her very beautiful, and he thought he was beginning to have genuine feelings for her. He had decided to take a leave of absence from work to spend more time with her at the cabin. She hadn’t objected; he gave her the space she needed to get to know and trust him, and he hoped she’d come around to caring for him, too. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

_Heart, don't fail me now  
Courage, don't desert me  
Don't turn back  
Now that we're here  
People always say  
Life is full of choices  
No one ever mentions fear  
Or how a road can seem so long  
How the world can seem so vast  
Courage see me through  
Heart I'm trusting you  
On this journey...to the past_

_  
\- Liz Callaway, “Journey to the Past”, Anastasia soundtrack_

*****

(April 6)

Detective Steven Markowicz was glad to have a few days of vacation. Work had been stressful lately; the lieutenant had been grumpier than usual. Steve thought it was the constant string of dead ends in the Jennifer Hart case. The lieutenant never liked failure, but in this case it was also personal, since he knew the Harts well. The case really was quite baffling, and their first solid lead, to someone reporting to have information when nothing and no one else had been found, had become a homicide case in its own right. And nothing at all had been learned. No matter what other cases they worked on, Lt. Grey and his detectives never had the Jennifer Hart case far from their minds. A few days of R&R, visiting his cousin, Susanna, in Portland, perhaps doing some rock climbing or hiking, was just the sort of break he needed.

Susanna was a nurse by profession, and an avid rock climber and outdoors person. She and Steve had planned a couple of days of hiking with some climbing thrown in - nothing too over the top, since he was a novice. After their first day out, with a few easy climbs behind them, they made camp as the sun was setting. The warm glow of the campfire held the increasingly cold night air at bay, and they fell into an easy conversation, sipping their beer and trading stories. Steve listened with admiration to Susanna’s climbing stories. Eventually the conversation turned to their work and other things, getting philosophical. Steve talked about things he saw in his job as a detective: things people said and didn’t say, how he’d learned to interpret what people really meant…versions of the truth, lies, how they figured out the difference.

Susanna said, “I run into that sometimes in my job, too, actually. People are often afraid to tell the doctors how they got injured or sick…sometimes it takes the nurses to get them to confide. It can be crazy – and life-threatening, even – what they won’t tell you sometimes.”

“Sometimes people are trying to protect themselves, or someone else, and even when faced with the evidence they don’t back down.”

“I met this guy on the trail a month or so ago who had a weird story. About a patient in the ER where he used to work – she was supposedly a climber, too.”

“Mixing work and play, now, are we?” Steve was feeling the beer now, making him sleepy and a bit goofy.

“Really – who’da thunk it? I suppose I only remember the story because it was about rock climbing, and medicine, and I could tell so easily what he meant.”

“So what’s the story?”

“Well, he said he worked in an ER up north somewhere, and they brought this woman in on a helicopter. They insisted that she’d had a fall rock climbing, but he didn’t believe it. They were lying for some reason, he said. Only the excuses weren’t coming from the patient this time, since she was unconscious. The bird paramedics _insisted_ it was a rock climbing fall.”

“Why didn’t he believe it?”

“Well, first of all, he said her hands were all wrong…see my fingers? There’re calluses, short nails – they come with the sport. Hers were well-kept, if not manicured. That was one thing…he also thought her injuries didn’t seem consistent with a fall, but he never had another chance to question the EMT’s who brought her in. Then there were the personal items they brought in with her – fancy stuff, jewelry, that no woman would’ve worn rock climbing.”

“Why not?”

“A woman may be a rock climber _and_ have a Rolex, but she doesn’t wear it while climbing, not if she’s in her right mind, let alone her wedding ring. They’d just get in the way, and get damaged or lost.”

Steve was glad men didn’t have to worry about stuff like that. But something in the story triggered a thought…but it couldn’t be…could it? He turned it over in his mind. A Rolex?

“Where did you say they found this woman?”

“Oh, up north somewhere…I think the guy was Canadian.”

_‘Well, why not?’_ Steve thought. They’d looked everywhere else on the west coast. And she had disappeared in a helicopter…it’d be risky, but what better way to hide someone than to take them out of the country? Steve shook his head – it was a crazy idea. But he had latched onto it now and found he couldn’t just let it go.

“Um, did this guy say what she looked like?”

Susanna looked at him quizzically, wondering at his sudden interest in her random, off-handed story. “Well, now that you mention it, he did say she was quite beautiful, despite being banged up from the accident. She looked fit, if not athletic enough to be a climber – see the muscles?” And she showed him hers, laughing. “Maybe she was a novice climber like you!”

He joined her laughter, while protesting that she was too harsh on a poor beginner. But he turned the story over and over in his mind. 

Seeing his preoccupation, Susanna asked, “Hey, what’s up? Why all this interest in a climber’s tale?”

“Well, it just seems…important, somehow.” He decided to plunge in, and told her a little about the case that so preoccupied his lieutenant. “It seems…eerily coincidental. There’s been no trace of her…none at all – I’ve never encountered a case like it. There’s usually something… Why couldn’t it be because she was taken out of the country? She still needed medical care very badly, so a hospital is the obvious place to look. The Harts are quite wealthy, so kidnapping seems logical, but no ransom call has ever come. And no body has ever turned up, either.”

Susanna was intrigued, and disquieted. “Why would someone do that – kidnap a woman so badly hurt and risk her further by moving her so far away? Sounds crazy – and unlikely – to me.”

“Perhaps. But I think I need to pursue it – at least tell Lt. Grey. We can send out the missing persons report and request that the police inquire at hospitals in western Canada. At least it’s somewhere else to look. Nothing else has turned up around here, on the west coast.”

He fell silent. She could tell from his face that he was still thinking about it. She said, “Look, why don’t we hike back tomorrow? I can see that you won’t relax until you check into this.”

He looked at her, relieved that she’d suggested it, not having wanted to interrupt their vacation. “I would like to get to a phone, at least talk to the lieutenant. Thanks for understanding, Suse.”

She chuckled. “I guess I’m as intrigued as you. You’ll owe me the rest of the story, if anything comes of it.”

“Okay – you’ve got a deal!” He had a hard time sleeping that night, but soon enough the morning had come and they started back.

*****

(April 7)

After the first month of living with him, Jennifer had become convinced she loved Scott. Until two days ago, however, she had been unable to allow him into her bed. She hadn’t been ready for such intimacy; it just hadn’t felt right, somehow. And even as she had enjoyed the physical nature of their lovemaking, she doubted they would be repeating it any time soon. She loved Scott. He had saved her, loved her, healed her. But he didn’t make her heart sing with joy. He had encouraged her to forget Before, but even though the frequency of the Before episodes had diminished, she found that she could not wholly let them go. Who did she love before? She must have loved Before … somehow, she was sure of it.

She began to find herself doubting what she’d been told in the hospital, about her apparent past – it just didn’t _feel_ right, didn’t jive with the dream which was her only connection to what had happened to her. She had no memories, and the dream was incomplete, fragmented; there was pain, yes, but also feelings and sensations that didn’t seem all bad. These were comfortable, good. Natural. And curiosity seemed to be one of her stronger instincts. Her need to _know_ things increased all the time. That characteristic began to shape her resolve to face her past and discover herself.

*****

(April 7)

When Lt. Grey took the phone call, he was surprised that it was Markowicz – he was supposed to be on vacation. And he was – but when he heard the detective’s story, he was glad he’d called. He agreed to send a dispatch of the missing persons report to several police forces in western Canada. It may be a long shot, but that was better than no shot at all – and there had been no leads to check out in quite a while.

“Interesting theory, detective. Good work. Enjoy the rest of your vacation. Perhaps when you get back we’ll have heard something.”

“Let me know if anything comes in, will you?”

“You got it.”

Lt. Grey now had to decide what, if anything, he would tell Jonathan Hart. It was definitely not much to go on - a reason to expand the search, if nothing else; but, like Markowicz had said, it felt eerily coincidental. He thought perhaps it’d be better not to get Jonathan’s hopes up quite yet. He’d wait and see if there was a reason for anyone to go rushing off to Canada.

*****

As she wove her way between tall pine trees, Jennifer felt in her pocket for the still-soggy trioxcylene pill. She no longer wanted to say goodbye to Before. To whom she loved Before. Even if it meant sacrificing Scott. There could be someone from Before waiting for her, and she had begun to understand that she needed to know about the Before in order to get on with her future, whatever it held in store for her. She began to think that she could deal with the pain of remembering, to discover who she was.

*****

_The only light in the room came from the fire, which cast dancing shadows along the walls. Jennifer took no notice, but stared at her husband before her. His eyes were bandaged in gauze and she realized she was reaching up to remove them. As each layer unraveled, her heart began pounding faster, until she was sure her husband could hear the erratic tattoo. <Please, please, please, please>_

Jennifer jerked to consciousness to the sound of her own voice chanting over and over. "Pleasepleasepleaseplease." She sat on the floor of the forest, her fists curled tightly around handfuls of leaves and pine needles. The memory was so real, so poignant, that Jennifer’s heart still raced with the terror, and wonder, of it. She stood on unsteady legs and headed back to the cabin to wait for Scott’s return. Maybe Before wasn’t what she wanted. And yet, it hadn’t been exactly unpleasant, either. Her heart began slowing.

"Heart." She said the word out loud and felt a flicker of recognition, but then it was gone. "Heart."

She repeated the word over and over until it began to sound foreign to her ears. She rolled it around her tongue, whispered it, yelled it, chanted it. Why heart? She stepped through the glass French doors into the living area of the cabin. Grabbing a pen and a paper, she sat down at the glass coffee table and wrote the word down over and over. <Heart, heart, heart, heart. I love you. Heart. Heart. Heart.>

Unknowingly, Jennifer tapped into one of the professional exercises of her former life. The pen flashed across the cream of the paper as Jennifer began writing, just writing, without thinking about what any of it meant. Words that had made imprints on her mind before the trioxcylene erased everything else.

Heart.

Darling.

Heart.

Max.

Heart.

Freeway. Freeway?

Jonathan.

Jennifer stopped at the last one. Jonathan. The name slipped from her lips unbidden, and she felt she had said it a thousand times before. Jonathan, I love you.

Jonathan. Heart. Jonathan. Where are you?

She closed her eyes and continued to write, the words crossing and clashing across the paper. Minutes later, she opened her eyes. The sheet was no longer legible, save for a small drawing in the upper right hand corner. Two hearts, entwined. Where had she seen that before? Two hearts. Two hearts.

Jonathan.

*****

(April 19)

Lt. Grey couldn’t believe it. It had only been a week or two since they’d sent the report on Jennifer Hart to the Canadian police, and they’d actually gotten a potential hit. The Canadian officials, while thinking it a really long shot, had been agreeable in at least dispatching the report to area hospitals. It was in Vancouver that they thought there might be something. He headed out to the Hart residence – it was time to fill Jonathan and Max in.

Max answered the door. One look at the lieutenant and he suspected that he had something important to tell them. 

“Hi Max. Is Jonathan in?” he asked, without sparing much time on pleasantries.

“Yeah. I’ll get him.” He went to the library, where Jonathan was trying to get some work done, and said,

“Mr. H, Lt. Grey is here. I think something’s up.”

Jonathan was on his feet and moving to the living room before he finished.

“Herschel, how are you? What’s happening? Is there anything new on Jennifer?” he always asked, but rarely held out hope anymore of a positive answer. This time he was surprised.

They moved to sit on the couches opposite each other.

“Well, a couple of weeks ago we moved on a long shot, a hunch of one of my detectives, really, and it may actually have paid off.” He looked amazed at the possibility.

“What do you mean?”

“Detective Markowicz – you may remember him, I’ve kept him pretty active on Jennifer’s case – well, he was on vacation, actually, and heard a story, a second or third person story, but it gave him an idea and we followed it. In short, we sent Jennifer’s missing persons report to several police precincts in western Canada. And by some freak chance, we may have found something. Not Jennifer, but something about her, maybe – I don’t know. We need to go to Vancouver to check it out.”

Max moved to call Jack, the Harts’ pilot, to get the plane ready.

Jonathan was momentarily stunned. “You mean you may actually have a solid lead?”

“It’s possible. A woman matching her description was treated in a suburban hospital there at about the right time. Now, Jonathan, I don’t want you to get your hopes up…let’s just get up there and see what they say.”

But Jonathan had a feeling about this one, and his hopes did rise, although he tried to keep it under control. _‘Canada…why not?’_ he thought to himself, echoing Markowicz’s hunch.


	6. Chapter 6

# Part Six

_Wishing, hoping, chasing shadows  
Did I see your face somewhere in the crowd  
Thinking, wondering, what you're doing  
I can’t stop myself from crying out loud  
They say my wound will heal and only leave a scar  
But then, they'd never shared our love…_

_How can I forget you when my world is breaking down_  
You're all I had, you're all I want  
\- ABBA, “Disillusion”

*****

Jennifer sat in the low light of the living room staring absently out the window. The sun was sinking beneath the trees, giving the impression of a wildly raging fire on the horizon. But she didn’t see the splendor of the sunset, or the majesty of the view before her. She clutched in her hand the piece of paper she’d been writing on.

Her experiment in free association had led her to this moment in time, to a list of words that she felt could mean the world, her very life, but that barely conjured up half-images and broken recollections.

Suddenly cold, Jennifer drew the couch blanket up over her legs and once again spread the piece of paper across her thigh. The words were blurred together and faint, but she could make them out. They were the keys to Before. To him. To life. Jennifer realized that she was no longer afraid of what she would find there.

Jennifer jumped at a light tapping from across the room. A woodpecker? Her eyes lit up when she saw Pandora trotting towards her. Pandora’s nails clicked against the hard wood floor, beating a steady rhythm, until she came to rest beside Jennifer. Chocolate colored almond-shaped eyes pled with Jennifer and a soggy tennis ball was dropped in her lap.

With a chuckle, Jennifer half-heartedly lobbed the ball across the room and Pandora scampered after it. Jennifer cringed when Pandora’s massive tail swept a stack of magazines off an end table, but quickly forgave her when she saw Pandora’s utter contentment at trapping the errant ball.

Scott had presented Pandora to Jennifer not long after she had arrived at the cabin. He claimed she would need a companion, a friend, to keep her company. After all, he spent many hours, even days, away from the cabin. He had duties at the hospital in Vancouver and he wanted to know she was occupied. At the time, Pandora was merely a half-grown sprout who wanted desperately to be a German Shepherd. Over time she had grown beautiful and regal, and became Jennifer’s constant companion.

"I loved animals Before," she said to no one in particular. Pandora looked up from her sopping tennis ball and cocked her head quizzically. Jennifer smiled at the dog and motioned for her to continue her chewing.

_< What a strange name, Pandora.>_ Scott had said. _< Why Pandora?>_

Jennifer had said only that it sounded exotic, and she loved the exotic. But it was more. Pandora, the real Pandora, held within her box all the mysteries of the world. And when curiosity got the better of her, she had opened the box and released many horrors: hatred, anger, fears, loathing. Frightened, Pandora slammed the lid back on her box, but not before she caught sight of one last element sitting quietly within the box. Fearfully inching back the lid, Pandora was astonished to find the strongest of all that had been within the box. Not evil like its companions, it was graceful and wonderful.

It was hope.

And Pandora, the gentle fuzzy soul sitting before Jennifer, was hope. Hope that Jennifer would reclaim a life, old or new, and that she would begin to live again. She’d begun to realize that a quasi-existence lived outside the world, high atop a hill in a glass house was really no existence at all.

Jennifer moved her gaze from the dog back out the window. Her memories of Before were her own box. She knew they could release all manner of horrible truths. Pain, devastation, a family, perhaps, who had lived months without her. But hiding in the corner of Jennifer’s version of the box was hope. Hope that the people from Before loved her and that she loved them. And that they needed her just as much as she needed them.

*****

(April 19)

The Hart Industries jet touched down in Vancouver, and the four of them, Jonathan, Max, Lt. Grey and Detective Markowicz, wasted no time in getting to the precinct that had called about the missing persons report. Detective Malone accompanied them to the hospital, St. Christopher’s, that had treated a Jane Doe patient matching Jennifer’s description.

“The patient was brought in by helicopter from the mountains, reportedly after a rock climbing accident” the detective said on the way over. To have Detective Markowicz’s story corroborated – the sheer luck and coincidence of it - came as a bit of a shock to all of them.

“Anyway, that’s what they said. But there’s a nurse there who thinks that their patient looked like the woman in the photograph you sent up here, Lt. Grey.”

When they arrived at St. Christopher’s, Jonathan and Lt. Grey sought out the nurse, Elayna Bennett, and after introductions, Detective Malone and the others began discreetly asking questions of other employees. 

Jonathan showed the nurse a photograph of Jennifer.

“Well, that certainly looks like her. I remember her – she was here quite a while.”

“How long?” Jonathan asked, trying to keep his heart from racing.

“Well, she was unconscious when they brought her in, and remained so for several weeks - a month, maybe less. I don’t recall exactly…after she woke up it was another few weeks until she was released.”

Lt. Grey asked, “Can we get her medical records?”

“Well, I don’t know the procedure for releasing Jane Doe records…they are her records, even if we’re not sure of her identity.”

“Why weren’t you sure?” he asked, but he and Lt. Grey both felt they knew the answer.

“She had amnesia from the head injury.”

“Were there any other, ah, other effects from the head injury?” Jonathan had to ask. Although she was reluctant to give too much information, Nurse Bennett could see the worry in his eyes, so she answered.

“No, sir. Nothing lasting, other than the amnesia. Her other injuries were healing well - cracked ribs, I think, and a broken arm, cuts and bruises.” She paused.

“Which doctor treated her?”

“Well, of course, several had rounds and checked on her periodically. Dr. Scott Bonsaint oversaw her care.”

“How can we reach him?” Lt. Grey asked.

“Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him in while. Perhaps the hospital administrators would know how to reach him.”

“When was she released?” Jonathan asked.

“I’d have to check, but it’s been well over a month, I think, maybe two.”

“Thank you, Miss Bennett. You’ve been most helpful,” Herschel said.

Elayna Bennett looked at Jonathan and rested her hand on his arm. “She was so…so lost. Angry, at first, and sad. I’ve worked with a few amnesia patients before. Not having your memory is strange, and very difficult to cope with. But she seemed to have lost her heart, too, somehow. I don’t know if I can explain it.” She shook herself, as if coming out of a reverie, a memory of her own, and said, “I hope you find her, Mr. Hart. And I hope our Jennifer is your wife. You seem like a kind, loving man. She deserves that.”

Jonathan had looked up sharply when she’d said the name. “Jennifer? You called her Jennifer?”

“Well, yes – I believe she called herself that…at least, it seemed to be all she knew about herself, so, that’s what we called her. Is that-?”

“Yes, that’s my wife’s name,” Jonathan said softly. 

Their eyes met, and Jonathan felt certain that this Jane Doe, this Jennifer, as she’d come to be called in the hospital, was _his_ Jennifer. He grew more and more certain of it, and thought he could feel her presence, more strongly now than at any other time since the accident.

“I hope it’s her, Mr. Hart, I really do,” the nurse said again.

“I hope so too, Miss Bennett. Thank you for your time and kind words.” He grasped her hand in farewell.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Hart, and good luck.”

*****

The hospital administration would only say that Dr. Bonsaint had taken a leave of absence for personal reasons, at his own request, and that he was expected to be gone for several weeks; his return date was uncertain. They didn’t know what his plans were, but provided his home address. 

It was getting late in the day, but Jonathan insisted on going directly to Bonsaint’s house. The others tried to prevail upon him to get something to eat first; they were all hungry, and could use a few minutes to go over what they knew. Max could see that Jonathan was getting tired; he was limping a bit more than usual, evident for the first time since he’d given up the cane. But Max also knew it was useless to try to put him off. If they went to eat now, Mr. H wouldn’t be able to touch it anyway.

*****

When they arrived at the house of Dr. Bonsaint, no one was home. Detective Malone was there, or Jonathan would have seriously considered getting out his credit card or a nail file…he sighed – Jennifer had always had one handy when they needed it. As it was, there wasn’t even cause for a search warrant. The doctor was not suspected of anything, other than providing medical care that his patient had desperately needed. They looked around, peered in windows…it appeared that no one had been there in some time. So, he was away on vacation, then. Detective Malone said that they’d keep an eye on the place for a while, and continue trying to contact him; he’d let Lt. Grey know if he turned up. Then he went back to his precinct to see what they could learn about Bonsaint, saying he’d meet them later.

Discouraged, the others went to their hotel and discussed their next step. Jonathan didn’t want to leave, feeling that this was the best lead they’d had. He decided to stay in Vancouver for a few days, at least, to see what else he could learn. Lt. Grey and Markowicz would return to L.A. on the Hart Industries jet, (which would then return to Vancouver); they’d continue working on the list of people with potential grudges against the Harts. Max would stay with Mr. H, since Marie was again staying at the house with Freeway.

Over the next few days, Jonathan and Max talked to more hospital staff. It was encouraging, and yet not…they grew more and more certain that Jane/Jennifer Doe truly was Jennifer Hart. He had to believe it. It gave him the hope that she had recovered from the accident, except for the amnesia…she hadn’t died, or been disabled. He held out hope that her memory would return, although, in the back of his mind, he feared that the longer she went with the amnesia, the less likely it could get that she ever would remember fully - especially without anything familiar to assist her. But he refused to worry about that for now; if he could just find her, it would be enough. He would help her to remember. Or, if she couldn’t, he had to believe that their bond was strong enough for her to overcome the lack of a past - that she could fall in love with him all over again.

They got one lead – one of the nurses on duty when she checked out told them that she’d referred Jennifer Doe to a local motel. 

When Jonathan showed the owner of the motel the photograph of Jennifer, the man said, “Well, it’s been a couple of months, but it certainly looks like her. The hair was different. But yeah, I suppose it could be the same woman.”

“What can you tell us about her? How long did she stay?”

“Well now I don’t recall exactly. When was she here?” They gave him the approximate date; they hadn’t gotten the hospital to release anything from J. Doe’s records.

The motel owner pulled out his registry and flipped back to the week before the date they gave, and started perusing the pages. “I don’t know that I’d recall her name, of course.”

Jonathan said, “Jennifer is the first name. Look for something generic, like Doe.”

The man gave him a quizzical look but began scanning the pages. Jonathan peered over the counter, trying to read the names upside down, then asked, “May I?”

The man hesitated, but then acquiesced, turning the book around. Jonathan and Max began scanning the pages, and finally Jonathan’s eye landed on one in particular – he thought it looked like her signature, even with the different name. “Jennifer Smith,” he said softly. “Look at this one, Max. Jennifer Smith. That’s her. I’m sure of it.”

“It sure looks like Mrs. H’s hand writing.”

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” He turned the book back toward the owner. “How long was she here?”

“Ah, looks like just one night. She checked out the next day.”

“Do you recall anything about her? Where she might have gone? Anything she said? Was she with anyone?”

“Look, a lot of people pass through for just one night, and that was a while ago. I don’t remember anything specific about her. I think she was alone, though – at least, she took a single room.”

“Well, if you do remember anything, will you give me a call? It’s very important.”

The man nodded and pocketed the business card that Jonathan gave him, and they walked out to their rental car. Jonathan was both excited and crestfallen at once.

“She was here, Max. She must be here, in Vancouver, somewhere.”

But despite their small bit of luck in tracing Mrs. H’s movements upon leaving the hospital, they found nothing more in Vancouver. Just like in L.A. months before, she had vanished without a trace. But Jonathan felt like he was seeing her around every corner. At one point he chased after a woman on the street, sure it was her, only to be disappointed when it wasn’t. He knew he had to get a grip. He wanted so badly for her to be in Vancouver, to be where he could find her; she had to be there, somewhere. Trying to establish a new life, perhaps…but also searching, he hoped, for her past, her family. For him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part Seven**

_I did not believe because I could not see  
Though you came to me in the night  
When the dawn seemed forever lost  
You showed me your love in the light of the stars_

_Cast your eyes on the ocean  
Cast your soul to the sea  
When the dark night seems endless  
Please remember me_

_\- Loreena McKennitt, "Dante’s Prayer"_

*********

(April 23)

Jennifer took the stairs two at a time to the loft of the cabin. She stopped short at the foot of the bed and shuddered. She loved Scott, but she wasn’t sure any more that it wasn’t just a love borne of gratitude and a need to connect with another human life. The first few months of her new life were so bleak and lonely and she’d needed companionship so desperately. Scott was the first person who had made her laugh, the first person who had made her cry. He was the first person who made her feel anything beyond the numbness of living without an identity.

Jennifer moved to the head of the bed and fidgeted with the edge of a pillow. Scott hadn’t made it, so she set about folding the comforter into place and fluffing the pillows. When she finished, she sat amidst the clouds of white down. The mattress creaked softly beneath her weight and Jennifer flopped backwards and burrowed into the comforter. Her eyes tracked the high four posters of the bed, up to the gossamer mosquito net draped daintily from the ceiling. Her vision began to melt as she felt the strangely familiar bubbly and lightheaded sensation of slight inebriation. Her own laughter skittered through her head and the white of the room dissolved into a barely lit, dark room. Her large bed was replaced with a smaller, canopied version dressed with a rich red, embroidered duvet. It was a present, she thought. A gift for…something.

The gorgeous visage filled her vision and recognition flickered again. Jonathan. A voice, smoother than warm chocolate, slid past her ears, filled with teasing.

_< Darling, I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.>_ Even stranger than the drunken elation was the overwhelming feeling of supreme happiness, something she hadn’t felt since she woke up in the hospital. Jennifer reached her hands out to his face, to bring it to her own and ask it all the questions burning in her heart. But the face shimmered and shook and disappeared into a glare of light from the large windows in the cabin.

"Jo—" Jennifer’s anguished cry caught in her throat, as she realized that even though she had a name, she didn’t know who he was. A lover? A friend? Jennifer pulled the crumpled up piece of paper from her pocket and stared again at the drawing of two hearts entwined. The tears that welled in her eyes distorted the shape of the drawing, nearly erasing it from her vision.

"Who are you?" Her voice broke forlornly. She lay there on the bed for what seemed like hours. She stretched and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. Makeup streaked across her skin, but she really didn’t care. She’d clean up before Scott got home.

Lifting the sleeve of her blouse to check the time, Jennifer had another flash of memory – she saw a different watch on her wrist, a vision of receiving the beautiful thing as a gift. She felt like she’d seen it, here in the After. Suddenly she was consumed with a need to find the small collection of belongings from the Before. She knew there’d been a few items, but Scott had put them away, when she didn’t want to remember. It struck her, then, that perhaps Scott didn’t want her to remember. Why? Even though she’d tried to evade it for a long time, she realized now that remembering needed to be part of the healing process. And yet he discouraged it. For the first time she began to question his motives for doing so. Why wouldn’t he want that for her? She decided to test this new idea soon…when she had a plan. 

In the meantime, she began searching. Ultimately it wasn’t hard to find; he hadn’t had to hide it well, when she didn’t want it. Behind other boxes in the closet was a lock box, balancing precariously on some medical journals. She reached for it, but her hands barely brushed the bottom of the box. Bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, she jogged the box off its balance and it crashed towards the floor. She jumped out of the way and the box slammed into the hard wood floor, the lid flipping open.

"Good solid construction…" she muttered as she bent over to retrieve the box and the contents that had spilled out. Inside, she found a few, cherished – she now realized – belongings of Before. She didn’t remember these items from the hospital. Yet now she gloried in the clues she received. The watch was a Rolex – she gasped at what it must have cost – it was petite, just the right fit for her wrist. The small diamond chips glinted in the late afternoon light and Jennifer instinctively flipped the watch over.

There. On the back, engraved in the soft gold were the two hearts along with the words. _"I love you, - J."_

The edges of Jennifer’s vision darkened and tunneled until all she could see was the back of the watch. J. Jonathan. She searched through the box with her fingers until she felt a ring. A rather large, intricately cut diamond in an exquisite gold setting, it fit perfectly on her ring finger. Jennifer ran a nail across the etching on the back of the watch. The weight of the ring on her finger was more than familiar and Jennifer knew she was married. To him.

She caught a glimpse of a memory – a handsome face, the beatific white smile, and the warm cocoa voice. She knew his touch, his kiss, his heart. But she didn’t know his last name.

Jennifer clutched the watch to her chest, lost in thought. She was so deep in contemplation that she never heard the door open. She never heard the footsteps behind her. And before she could even turn around her world darkened in a blast of light and pain. And then it was over.

*****

“She found the lockbox! She hasn’t wanted to know, but she found it! I managed to knock her out, but what do I do?” The panicked voice was high-pitched and jagged in the old man’s ear. _This is what happens when you send amateurs to do a job,_ he thought.

“You take care of her. Did you get the items back?” His voice was calm and low.

“Yes. What do you mean, though – take care of her?” Scott was stunned. This was beginning to get out of hand.

“Don’t presume to question me! Just see that she never finds those things again.” 

He hung up in anger, pondering his next move. First, Jonathan Hart had found his way - somehow – to Vancouver. Fortunately, Scott Bonsaint hadn’t been found there, and Hart had gotten nowhere in his search of the city. Even the few clues he’d gotten at the hospital had not amounted to anything, really. DeBartelli had found a lure to get him back to L.A., but now this. Things were beginning to get more difficult.

*****

When Max and Jonathan got back to the hotel, there was a message for them from Lt. Grey. It read simply, “we’ve got the van.” They sat down to discuss things when they got to their suite.

“I think we should go back, Mr. H,” Max said, softly. Mr. H reacted as he thought he would.

“We can’t leave Vancouver, Max. She’s here. I know it.”

“Maybe, but I, I’m not so sure, Mr. H.” Jonathan looked sharply at him.

Max rushed on. “It’s been a week and she hasn’t turned up. We’ve got about as much to go on here as we’ve had for months in L.A. – which ain’t much. Come on, Mr. H. We’ve run out of leads. Let’s go back, at least see what Lt. Grey has to tell us. We’re spinning our wheels here right now. I can see how it’s affecting you. Detective Malone will be looking for her, and we can be back in just a few hours.”

Jonathan bowed his head, and considered what Max had said. He knew Max wasn’t giving up on finding her – he was just being practical. He didn’t want to admit it, but Max was right. Better to go back where they had resources, and could make progress on the enemies list. They could keep in touch with the authorities here, and return to continue the search whenever necessary, or possible. But as the Hart Industries jet left Vancouver and headed south, Jonathan couldn’t help feeling that he _was_ giving up – leaving her behind…and he didn’t like it one bit.


	8. Chapter 8

**Part Eight**

_You're adamant  
So loose limbed I give in  
Although your bed is warm  
The worn springs they creak of regret...  
The lines, the blinds are drawn  
We are intimate strangers  
I'm reborn, it's a false dawn  
Where we've been, I forget_

_And Saturday's fuss is just small town lust_  
It's me I'm cheating  
Now you're doing my head in

_\- Catatonia, "Why I Hate One Night Stands"_

*********

Jennifer swam towards the surface, light crisscrossing in a broken pattern above her head. _What had happened?_ She slowed as she reached the glassy surface of consciousness, unsure if she wanted to reach the oxygen, the world. She had been here before, in the tentative space between life and death. The light of life beat a steady heartbeat above her, pulling on her very blood and willing her towards it. However, she was cool and calm and she embraced the numbness she had not so long ago tried to banish. Here, in limbo, she remembered what she’d lost. A dashing husband who loved her beyond reason, who would die for her. A man she would die for - had died for. Against her will, the biology of her body betrayed her and once again Jennifer felt Jonathan melting like a mist on a warm California morning, burning away until there was nothing left but a slight layer of humidity. She could feel his touch, hear his words, but she could not identify them. She felt tears of anguish, loss and frustration course down her cheeks.

*********

As the beautiful eyes faded into nothingness, Jennifer became aware of a sharp, terrible pain at the back of her head. Grimacing, she tenderly touched the spot. Her fingers came away clean, which was a relief, but when she tried to stand, the world lurched sideways and she found herself back on her knees. Regaining equilibrium, she began a visual scan of her room. She couldn’t remember exactly how she’d gotten to the floor when she noticed the lockbox in the closet smashed open. Had it fallen on her head? Jennifer brought her left hand to her temple and massaged it gently. She was far too tired of memory loss to deal with the recent events and she stood carefully. Thankfully, the earth obeyed her will and stayed steady enough for her to maneuver the few feet to the bathroom sink. She carefully inspected her face in the mirror, silently noticing the tear-tracks down her face.

"Why can’t I remember?" Jennifer hollered to the near-empty house. The other occupant, a sleeping German Shepherd, leapt at the sound of her voice. She whuffed once before settling her head back on her paws. She watched her master with concern in her almond eyes. It was never good when They started talking to themselves.

Jennifer began swiping her eyes, trying to make herself presentable. As she brought her hands up to massage her eyes, a flash glinted in the mirror. With disbelief she looked at the haunting ring on her finger. It was the ring she had found in the lockbox, one of few pieces of evidence that she had, in fact, existed prior to the last several months. Jennifer stared deeply into the exquisitely cut gem, until the flashes and rainbows blended together to make a mass of light against her pale skin. She remembered being downstairs, writing about her past. She remembered coming upstairs. She had pulled down the lock box and…it all went blank. She did remember that there had been a watch in the box and Jennifer frantically searched the room for evidence of it. When she came up empty-handed, Jennifer flopped back on the bed. Pulling the beautiful ring from her finger she inspected the inside. There was a J and a J inscribed. Stamped next to them was a small figure she couldn’t quite make out. The jeweler’s insignia, maybe.

An idea came to Jennifer as she lay across the bed in the loft of the cabin. She would have to plan carefully. Very carefully. She _knew_ she’d seen a watch – had seen the inscription of the intertwined hearts on the back. But it was gone. So someone had been in the house, and she knew that could only mean one thing. Scott had hurt her – actually hurt her! – to prevent her from rediscovering the Before. But why? If he loved her, he’d help her remember, wouldn’t he? He had never acted jealous – he'd always been loving and kind. So why? In an instant her forest haven became a prison – and Scott not to be trusted. Yes, she’d have to plan very carefully, indeed.

*********

Jonathan phoned Herschel on the flight home, and they arranged to meet the next day at his office; they’d go to the police garage, where the van was being examined, from there. Jonathan didn’t want to wait, but the garage and lab would be closed for the night by the time they arrived in L.A.

When they got to Lt. Grey’s office the next morning, he had an update for them. 

“We found two sets of fingerprints on the van so far. They match a couple of losers in the system – your everyday common criminal – both had been in the slammer a number of times, mostly for petty crimes.”

“Had been?” Jonathan’s sharp ear caught the past tense.

“Yeah. Both turned up dead a couple of months ago. No leads on who did it, but we thought the two murders might be connected, since it was known that they were friendly in the slammer and had worked together, as well. Their case was pretty low priority, but I’ve moved it up, seeing as we believe this is the van that clipped your car that night.”

“How can you be sure?” Max asked.

“Well, the paint scrapes taken from both vehicles match, and they’re still analyzing the pattern of the marks, but I’m pretty confident that we have the right vehicle.”

When they arrived at the garage, Lt. Grey took them to the van and showed them the areas being analyzed. They talked with the forensic analyst and got a complete run-down on what had been determined so far. Their Mercedes was there as well; it unnerved Jonathan to see it again – the damage was extensive, and even though he looked at the photos of the accident frequently, seeing the actual car was a shock. To see the yellow paint on the bumper of the black van was even more of a shock. Jonathan was left with no doubt that it was the van involved in the accident.

“Do you find it strange that the van would turn up, virtually unchanged?”

“Well, it was locked in a storage garage, apparently abandoned. We got a call – a tip, and went to investigate.”

Jonathan found that odd, but had no ready explanation, so he said nothing. When they got back to Herschel’s office, the discussion turned to the list of possible enemies. Jonathan and Max had narrowed the list down to several potential men with a grudge against either Jonathan or Jennifer. Herschel went over the list.

“Victor Shell, Whitney Rogers, Angelo DeBartelli, Owen Grant, Zeke Balinger, David Cavanaugh, Nick Rhodes…” he paused on that one, “…Tom Lawrence/Larry Tanner…Jonathan, I recognize a couple of these names, but who’re the others?” 

Jonathan indicated two names on the list – Shell and Grant. “These two were employed by Hart Industries. Victor Shell was the corrupt vice president of my shipping lines. I had the distinct pleasure of firing him. You remember Grant, Herschel – the lawyer who tried to have me killed and take over the company with that phony will – and Jennifer as well, I might add. As far as I know he’s still rotting in prison.” They could hear satisfaction in his voice at that.

Herschel was taking notes.

“Whitney Rogers was a small-time drug hustler. David Cavanaugh was involved in an elaborate plot – which included a couple of murders - to get his brother’s share of the family trust, and we got in the way. Zeke Balinger tried to buy up land cheaply near our ranch by polluting the river with chemicals –a real, modern robber-baron. As far as I know, all three are also in prison.”

“How about this guy?”

“Angelo DeBartelli. He was the father of a former Hart Industries scientist, who was employed in our chemical facility. She and her boyfriend tried to sell industrial secrets to the competition. Theft of intellectual property, extortion and embezzlement, treason.”

“Why’s he on the list?”

Max answered that one. “I suggested including him. He was real bitter about what happened to his daughter – blamed Hart Industries, and Mr. H – basically anyone but the daughter herself.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died in prison. Victim of some kind of abuse, or a fight – I’m not sure which,” Jonathan said.

“So why blame you?”

“I don’t know. No one else within reach, I suppose. Since I exposed their scheme, I was apparently responsible for her ending up in jail, I think the theory went. This was before I met Jennifer,” Jonathan said, answering Herschel’s unspoken question. Then he went on, “DeBartelli even sued the company, but that went nowhere. The evidence against his daughter was pretty rock-solid. DeBartelli was pretty big in the business world before that – he was quite wealthy, had family money as well. Then he vanished – became a recluse of sorts.”

“Yeah – just the type to nurse a grudge, if you ask me,” Max said.

“And the last two?” Herschel said, turning his attention back to the list.

“Nick Rhodes was the mobster who committed that gangland murder, remember him? He probably has a pretty serious grudge against Jennifer, and me. And, he’d probably have the resources to orchestrate something, even from the inside. This last guy, Tom Lawrence, was an embezzler who served 5 years in prison after Jennifer exposed him in an article she wrote – that was also before we met. He tried to kill her after he escaped from prison – went by the name Tanner at the time. He could have a pretty major grudge by now – he had a big one before - but I don’t know if he could plan and execute so elaborate a plan from jail.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, everything is too tidy. There are no loose ends – which means no leads for us. That takes a lot of murders, like Michael Hadley –but that’s too messy. So, maybe it takes a lot of money – a lot of hush money. And resources to, say, move her out of the country, especially when she needed constant medical attention at the time. We know she made it to Vancouver…” Max and Lt. Grey exchanged a glance, not quite as certain of that. Jonathan went on, “…I’ve thought about it and thought about it. I’d call it a very elaborate - and very expensive – bit of revenge.”

“Okay, point taken. We’ll check these guys out, let you know what we find.”

Jonathan and Max left; Max dropped Mr. H off at the office, where he had Deanne and Stanley give him some updates about Hart Industries. Deanne set up a meeting for him with the board. He needed to give some time to the company while he was back…he almost found it a welcome distraction from everything else on his mind. He even felt a bit more clear-headed and focused when he got home later that afternoon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part Nine**

_Somewhere down this road  
I know someone's waiting  
  
_

_Well, starting here, my life begins  
Starting now, I'm learning fast  
Courage see me through  
Heart I'm trusting you  
On this journey...to the past  
  
Home, Love, Family  
There was once a time  
I must have had them too  
Home, Love, Family  
I will never be complete  
Until I find you...  
  
Who knows where this road may go -  
Back to who I was  
On to find my future  
Things my heart still needs to know  
Yes, let this be a sign!  
Let this road be mine!  
Let it lead me to my past  
_

_\- Liz Callaway, “Journey to the Past”, Anastasia soundtrack_

*********

(May 1)

Jennifer pondered her dilemma for several days. She had to plan her escape – she knew that’s what it would be – for a time when Scott would be away for an extended period. Occasionally when he was on call, he stayed at the hospital. She had enjoyed the peace and quiet of the mountain cabin, but now realized just how isolated she truly was. And she had to work hard to convince Scott that nothing had changed – that she didn’t want to learn about the Before, that she was happy and content in the remote shelter of his house. That she loved and trusted him still.

When he’d returned the day she found the lockbox, she’d played the bump on her head off as a fall, a blank moment, something she’d had plenty of in the months since her hospitalization. She wondered how many had been due to the pills, which made her more determined not to take them any more, no matter what pain remembering might bring her. She was ready – and had to hide this from Scott. Even without the diamond-shaped pills, she had to acknowledge that she may never recover her memories. But she had to try – she had a name, and a face, a smile, to look for. He would be the one to help her recover her past – the only one who could, she suspected. Although she wasn’t sure what she’d felt for this man with the oh-so-blue eyes, she knew he held the key to everything, somehow. So she waited, and planned. Regardless of the outcome, she would find her past, then determine the future path of her own life.

Scott, meanwhile, was growing more sure of himself and his hold on Jennifer – she had retreated from questions about the Before again, without specific prompting from him, although he tried to find subtle ways of reminding her of their suspicions about her past – abuse and the supposed attempt on her life in the mountain accident. He pressed his claim on her affections, as well. She had been reluctant, after that first time, and he felt he’d given her the time and freedom she needed to decide to come to him. Whatever his complicity in her current situation, he justified it, telling himself that he loved her, and he wished to keep things at the cabin as they had been for all of these months. She was so beautiful, and he wanted her to himself.

Jennifer sensed that Scott was relaxing again with her. He had been patient. She knew he genuinely cared for her, even loved her. It was clear he liked their secluded spot and didn’t want things to change. She had cared for him, too, and perhaps still did – he was the only person she knew or had had much contact with since waking up at St. Christopher’s, and until recently this had been acceptable to her. Even if she wasn’t sure anymore that she could trust him, even if he was somehow involved in keeping her secluded from the world and her past…at the same time she had had feelings for him. Her emotions regarding him confused her; she resented the hold he’d had on her all these months. She fought against it, silently, and also against showing her increasing anger; everything now depended on him not suspecting her change of attitude, and heart.

She began planning how she’d hike down the mountain at the best time – when he was at the hospital for a couple of days; he’d be going back to work soon. It was a long way to the road, but she had sturdy boots, and had been increasing the length of her daily walks while getting to know the terrain. From all of the hiking she was fit and healthy again, and she was sure she could find her way while keeping off the road to the cabin. She’d get out to the highway and hitch to a town. It made her nervous to go to Vancouver, but it was the closest, largest city and most likely to have what she needed to begin her search.

Before she could go, she’d need a source of money. The only way she could think of to get it was to find the watch. She wouldn’t part with the ring – carefully hidden away in her own Pandora’s box – it was the key to everything. But while she was sure the watch was special, she knew it could provide the means for everything else. For days she had searched and searched – but this time it was more carefully hidden. She began to despair of ever seeing it again, but knew she couldn’t go forward without it.

*********

(May 8)

Scott Bonsaint’s surgery had gone well into the night, taking much longer than expected. He’d crashed in the early morning in the doctor’s lounge at the hospital. That’s where Detective Malone found him later that morning.

“Dr. Scott Bonsaint?”

“Yes?” he answered, groggy from a lack of sleep.

“I’m Detective Malone. We’re looking into a missing persons report for a woman thought to have been treated at this hospital several months ago. I’ve already interviewed your colleagues and co-workers some time ago, and we’re fairly certain the Jane Doe patient treated here is the woman we’ve been looking for. You were the doctor supervising her care. I’ve been waiting a long time to see you.”

Scott’s mind had begun to race as the detective spoke, but fortunately, his groggy state helped protect him from any sudden reactions to the man’s words. He gathered his thoughts quickly and controlled his expressions.

“Yes, well, I’ve been out of town.”

“So I gathered. Vacation?”

“Family business back east. I took the opportunity to drive across country – I’ve always wanted to do that, and was able to work out the time off. I just got back to work this week.”

“I see.” He pulled out a photo of Jennifer Hart.

“This is the woman we’re looking for. She’s American, and was in a car accident.” He refrained from giving him any more details.

Scott studied the picture, and succeeded – he hoped – in warding off his mounting panic and playing it cool. He’d always done passably well at poker….

“You treated a Jane Doe patient in January who was here for several weeks, with a head injury, broken ribs and arm. Typical injuries from a car accident, right?”

He nodded at the description as he looked up. “Yes, they can be, in general. This looks like a patient we treated, but I think she was in a mountain climbing accident, or somesuch. She was here for a while. I recall that she had amnesia when she woke up. I don’t think she regained her memory while she was here, but she recovered from the physical injuries and was released.”

“Did you see her at all after she was released? Follow-up visits, anything like that?”

“No, she never came back to the hospital that I’m aware of.” At least that much was true.

“I wish I could help you more, but that was a while ago and I’ve been a bit out of touch lately.”

“I understand. Thanks for your time. If you recall anything about this patient that seems important, significant in any way, please give me a call.” He gave Bonsaint his business card before leaving.

Scott sat down on the cot as he reviewed what had just happened. Somebody was looking for Jennifer, and he’d just covered up what he knew. He’d had to, of course. He had been uncomfortable with much about his dealings with DeBartelli – seeing as the man was blackmailing him – but at the same time, he also knew he’d helped her, protected her…and now he was in love with her, and was planning to ask her to marry him. If he could just make that happen, perhaps everything would work out…maybe they could get away from her past as well as his, and from DeBartelli.

He had rounds to do, and the patient’s file to update after the surgery. Then he would drive back up to the cabin and check on Jennifer, and think about what – if anything – he’d say to DeBartelli.

Malone was uncertain what, if anything, he’d learned from the interview with Bonsaint. His record was clean, he was respected as a surgeon, and all he’d done was provide care to Jennifer Doe/Smith. But something just seemed off to him. He couldn’t put his finger on it. He shook his head, and decided to go back to the precinct and see if he could dig up anything new on this Scott Bonsaint.

*********

(Sunday, May 23)

A few weeks had passed when, returning from a hike with Pandora, Jennifer saw a patch of earth near the woodpile that looked disturbed. Scott had gone for groceries and would be home soon, but she took a risk anyway and checked the spot. A parcel was partially buried, beneath wood and earth – and there it was – the watch! Her relief was instant and intense, but she smothered it, as she heard Scott’s car coming up the dirt road. Making sure to leave it as she’d found it, she entered the cabin through the back door and was waiting, reading a cookbook, when Scott arrived. In the time she’d spent in the mountain cabin, she had turned to cooking to pass time and be useful.

“Hi, honey,” Scott said as he came in. “What’re you planning there?”

“Well, I thought I might whip up some stir-fry for dinner tonight. What do you say?”

“Sounds great,” he said, happy she was interested in such domesticity. “I’ll just go get cleaned up.”

“You do that, and when you’re finished, everything will be ready.”

“’k.” He kissed her forehead, and lingered, leaning over her. “Love you.” He paused, looking into her eyes.

“Love you, too.” She was surprised at how easily it came from her lips, since she no longer really felt love for him. Not real love. She wasn’t comfortable with lying, but self-preservation and discovery of her past had become of the utmost importance to her. She sighed as she got up to cook dinner.

That evening over dinner, Scott told her that he’d be going in to the hospital the next morning, and staying for few days – it was time for him to go back to work, and he already had a complicated surgery scheduled. He’d decided to spend the night beforehand in the hospital, and anticipated being too exhausted to make the drive back afterward. He would be gone for three days, at least. Her heart leapt – this would be her chance! But she played it cool, hoping that her inner excitement and the quick beating of her heart weren’t obvious. She said how sorry she was that he’d be gone…she said all of the right things to reassure him. 

After dinner they settled on the couch together, and Jennifer realized that Scott wanted to make love to her again before he left. And why wouldn’t he – they’d already been together once, and he’d been patient, waiting for her to want to be with him again. The he told her that he loved her, needed her; even that he wanted to formalize their relationship. That surprised her - she couldn’t believe her ears. If only things were as they appeared. But she knew his duplicity even as she still thought his feelings for her were genuine. But what did he really know about her? Did he love her for her beauty and vulnerability, or for who she really was? And who was that, exactly? If she didn’t know, how could he possibly? She wondered how much he really did know – and decided it couldn’t be much. Or surely she would have realized it sooner….

All of this flashed through her mind in a blink of an eye, but she’d hesitated as he had voiced his desire to marry her, be with her always. She had to erase any doubts that it was what she wanted, too. Not knowing what else to do, and trying to hide her true reluctance, she accepted him, expressing just the right amount of doubt over her past and what they really knew about it, and then turned to her readiness to meet the future head-on. Which, for her, at least, meant confronting her past. Scott thought he understood her hesitation; he accepted her acquiescence, and was filled with joy. 

As they lay entwined later in the big four-poster bed, Jennifer felt mainly relief that she had pulled off the whole evening without him sensing, suspecting, what her true feelings were. But she also felt unease, even dread – and couldn’t explain it. But she pushed the feeling away. She’d done what she had to do, so he wouldn’t suspect anything, so she could get out, get on with her life. It had been a crucial performance. But she fought back tears anyway, turning on her side so Scott wouldn’t see. She spent a mostly sleepless night, anxious for the dawn. What little dreaming she had was bad – the smile, vanishing in pain and disappointment…the face, shattering into little pieces with a sound of shrieking metal…she awoke with a start, and Scott wrapped his arms around her in his sleep, trying to comfort her. She allowed it, but no more sleep came to her that night.

*********

She feigned sleep, however, in the morning when he rose to go. She didn’t want to face him. He kissed her and she smiled slightly as if in her sleep, and he left.

Jennifer took her time getting up, trying to catch a bit of sleep after the restless night. But she was too pumped with adrenaline, suddenly, to remain in bed. Trying to remain calm, and therefore level-headed, she went about her usual morning routine, making the bed, letting Pandora out, eating breakfast, showering. She chose her clothes carefully, putting a spare shirt and pair of jeans in a small backpack – the same one she usually carried on her hikes. She left her brush on the sink as usual, along with her other toiletries; she’d pick up new things later. She was only leaving for a day hike – that’s how it had to appear. She also took dry socks and underwear, a sweatshirt and a light rain jacket. She packed a bigger lunch than usual, and extra fruit, trail mix, and water. She had a topo map which she’d gotten Scott to buy her in the beginning, for her hikes. Finally, mid-morning, she was ready. She decided that she had to leave Pandora behind – she would only slow her down, and be difficult to take in to the city. 

“Poor Pandora – you’ve been such a companion to me,” she said. She patted the dog’s head and Pandora looked at her with her big, brown eyes and licked her face, pleased as always with the attention.

Jennifer retrieved the ring from its hiding place in the storage container of dog food – only she ever fed the dog – and slipped it on her finger, marveling again at its perfect fit and classic beauty. Lastly, she found the watch, still, thankfully, under the woodpile. She went back inside for a last time, and found that she wouldn’t miss it so much – she was excited to be taking control of her life! And she also found that the adventure of what she had to do held an element of thrill for her – not doubt, or dread, or fear. She knew she could handle it. _‘I must have an adventurous spirit,’_ she mused.

“No, Pandora, sweetie, you stay. Stay! You’re not coming with me today. Not this time. I’m sorry.” Jennifer worried that the dog’s presence would tip Scott off, but with luck he’d find an excuse for it. And he wouldn’t be back for 3 days. She worried about Pandora, but she heaped food in her bowl and gave her extra water, and thought she’d be okay, if hungry, when Scott got back. And she had access to a run to get outside.

Finally, Jennifer stepped out of the house. She noted the position of the sun as she set off down a trail that headed in the general direction of the highway. She’d keep the dirt road to her right. It would take longer, and be further on the trail, but she deemed it safer than following the road too closely. She estimated that it would take several hours to get to the highway, where she planned to hitch a ride. Fortunately, it was a beautiful sunny day – perfect for a long hike. As she headed down the trail, her steps felt as light as her heart. Her journey back to her past, and her future, had begun.


	10. Chapter 10

**Part Ten**

_Oh, my love  
my darling   
I've hungered for your touch   
a long lonely time   
and time goes by so slowly   
and time can do so much  
are you still mine?  
I need your love  
I need your love   
Godspeed your love to me_

_-The Righteous Brothers, “Unchained Melody”_

*********

Jonathan worked tirelessly with Lt. Grey and Max, trying to narrow the list of enemies to a reasonable few. They made some headway, but it was fairly slow going. David Cavanaugh and Whitney Rogers had been eliminated almost immediately; what assets they’d had had been frozen, and David was apparently a model inmate who’d made peace with his own culpability and guilt. Whitney Rogers had long since served his time and was living a quiet, supposedly law-abiding life in the Midwest. 

Balinger and Grant had also served their prison terms and been released; they were still being tracked down, as was Victor Shell, who had vanished before any charges could be brought against him for corruption; they suspected that he’d long since left the country. Tom Lawrence claimed to have repented and forgiven Jennifer for her role in his two arrests, but Jonathan found that hard to believe. In any case, he had no real connections or assets to carry off a scheme of the proportions they were dealing with, especially while still in prison. 

Nick Rhodes was still incarcerated, and was being monitored more closely. Angelo DeBartelli was also still unaccounted for, and presumed to be hiding out on his large estate outside of town; he was reputed never to leave it. Jonathan had begun to feel that one of them had to be behind Jennifer’s disappearance – being practical, they were the only two on the list that had the money and the connections to carry out such an elaborate plan. They also potentially had sufficient hatred, and desire for revenge, to put out the effort. 

He hadn’t really considered DeBartelli at first, but Max’s argument had begun to make a whole lot of sense to him. Jonathan was growing more and more certain the motive was a personal one, and perhaps aimed more at him than his wife. If someone wanted him to suffer, taking away the one person who meant more to him than life itself was a good way to accomplish that goal.

There hadn’t been much progress on Michael Hadley’s murder. And Dr. Blaurosen had been threatened and was being protected by the police, but she could tell them nothing of her attackers. More dead ends.

Jonathan was focused in ways he hadn’t been in the early days after being released from the hospital. He held on to the hope that his wife was searching, too, trying to return to him. That is, if she knew…but he didn’t allow the doubt to creep in anymore. One way or another, they would find each other. And he would find the man responsible. Someone had to be responsible!

His dreams still haunted him, as did the empty half of his bed, and her absence from the house. Her scent was no longer as evident – he sometimes smelled her perfume, her shampoo and conditioner, for a sense of her. He wouldn’t allow Max to wash her pillowcase, but even there her unique scent was vanishing. He and Max continued to have their midnight teas, but they became somewhat less tense, less frantic with grief. Instead, they were infused with hope and determination, and occasionally, laughter and fond remembrances of their times with her. Jonathan now found these talks with Max, who had been so integral a part of his life for so long – far longer than Jennifer – to be tremendous sources of strength and resolve for him. Max had always been there to bolster his spirits and support him in everything.

Jonathan also carried on the chores of life, which sometimes helped him feel grounded, in a way, but he also fought against that feeling, as if too much “normal” life meant too little focus on finding Jennifer – and he didn’t want life without her to _ever_ become normal. Some tasks had been difficult, and smacked of giving up on ever finding Jennifer alive, but Herschel and Max prevailed up on him. 

One of the first tasks Herschel had suggested had been to report the loss of the jewelry Jennifer had been wearing the night of the accident to the insurance company. Jonathan had had an irrational resistance to doing so, again feeling as if it somehow meant giving up, and he didn’t care at all about the money. None of her belongings had been recovered from the hospital. The police knew what was missing, and had descriptions, but the insurance companies had other networks to notify that could be on the lookout for stolen or fenced items. It could provide a clue to her whereabouts – a link, however slim. That point – of using it as a way of possibly tracing her, or someone who could’ve seen her, had made Jonathan see the usefulness of reporting the lost items.

*********

(Monday, May 24)

Indeed, it was a very similar thought that drove Jennifer on and was the heart of her plan. The jeweler’s insignia on the ring, perhaps the diamond itself, unless it had no flaws…and even that could be somewhat helpful.

She had successfully hitched a ride to Vancouver, although she had been very nervous doing it. Her trip down the mountain went smoothly, but she thought that would be the easiest part. She didn’t want to think about what would happen in a few days when Scott realized she wasn’t coming back from her hike. Would he frantically search the trails? Or would he guess that she had left? She quit thinking about it. 

She had taken some cash from Scott’s wallet – he wouldn’t miss it quickly as he always carried a lot of cash with him. It helped feed her and get her some toiletries at a truck stop. A kind waitress, hearing that she’d had a breakdown, pointed her in the direction of a trucker she could trust to take her to Vancouver. The man did indeed prove to be kind and trustworthy. They chit-chatted, but he had not pried. She kept her ball cap and sunglasses on, glad it was bright out.

He dropped her off at a clean motel on the edge of Vancouver. It was far on the other side of town from the hospital but she hoped to be in the city only long enough to get some cash and visit some jewelers. After checking in, she took a soak in the tub, ate what was left of her lunch provisions, and then fell into an exhausted but deep sleep.

Perhaps it was the change of scenery, or the exhilaration of the journey, but she dreamt – clear, sweet dreams, still in bits and snatches, glimpses, really, nothing more, but upon waking she was sure they were significant. The face, again, with sensual blue eyes that had warmed her to the core, and a white smile – she could feel love radiating from that smile. Like her other dreams, though, the image cracked into shards as if from a breaking mirror, flashes of light reflecting from all the tiny bits of glass. But instead of waking at the moment of impending darkness, the dream continued. There was the sound of tires screeching, and metal being crunched, ripped from the car as it rolled over and over. A voice, calling her name again and again - but she couldn’t respond. Then bright lights, and people crushing around her, asking questions she couldn’t understand. A question forming on her lips – _where is he?_ But there was no answer in return. Then, oblivion. It was this that woke her, finally, her heart pounding, the fear of losing everything to that oblivion, that blackness – it terrified her and filled her with loss. Jennifer knew, then, what that oblivion was. It had become her reality – a life without memory; it was her existence these past six months. Oblivion. Is that what it had become for him, as well - without her?

*********

(Tuesday, May 25)

In the morning after a fitful slumber, Jennifer showered and changed into fresh clothes. She kept her hiker appearance with the cap and glasses. She ate breakfast in the restaurant across the street, using up more of her cash. Back in the motel, she got out the yellow pages and began perusing it. She needed two things – jewelers shops and pawn shops, preferably ones where she could keep a low profile. As she looked through the pawn shop listings, one ad caught her eye. It was in French, of all things, and she was surprised to realize that she understood it. Perfectly! An unexpected skill – and a forgotten one.

She hadn’t realized that there was a French-speaking area in Vancouver, although French was a widely spoken language in other parts of Canada. She noted the address and located the area on the map in the motel’s tourist pages. After inquiring at the motel desk, she caught a bus and made her way to the street she needed in the French part of the city. She was pleased to find that she could understand spoken French and communicate quite fluently – it came naturally to her as she explored the area. She quickly found the shop, and spoke exclusively in French while inside.

In the end, she didn’t get quite the amount she’d hoped for on the watch – just $2000.00. She figured it had to be worth four or five times that amount. She’d given up some extra cash, as well, to have it placed on reserve for a month – just in case. Pleased nonetheless, she asked the pawn broker if there were any galleries or shops in the area. He gave her quite a list, entranced by her French and her charm. He only wished he’d seen her without the hat and glasses – he felt sure she must be a beautiful woman.

Jennifer headed in the direction the man had pointed. She hoped to find a French-speaking jeweler, and she was in luck. Nervous, now, she went inside. So much rode on any help she would get here.

“Oui, Madame. It is a most beautiful ring,” the jeweler said in French. “Un tresor.” Jennifer launched into her questions. She’d decided it was too unique a ring to make up something – she’d just ask how to find the artist who made it and trust to luck.

“Oui, the insignia can be used to tack down the artist – or, at least, the seller. Here, look at it under the microscope – you can make it out much better.” She looked and memorized it – then she asked for a piece of paper and drew the design. It’d be easier to ask around with the drawing, and perhaps she wouldn’t need to produce the ring itself again, to be inspected. 

The show owner, meanwhile, moved on to inspect the main diamond in the ring, “Avec ta permission, madame.” _(“With your permission, Madame.”)_

“Oui, monsieur,” she answered. “Ahhh…look madame, it is exquisite.” It was indeed flawless. The jeweler sighed – it wasn’t often that he saw such clarity and brilliance. And the setting was also remarkable for its loveliness – the main stone, surrounded as if with vines of tiny diamonds – intricate, floral, beautiful. 

“Il est une bague belle et extraordinaire, madame.” _(“A most beautiful, unusual ring, madame.”)_

“Merci. I hope to find the artisan and commission another piece to go with it – a bracelet, perhaps….” The jeweler took in her appearance and wondered…but it was none of his business, and he found her sincere; he was moved by a touch of loss, perhaps desperation, that he noted in her demeanor.

“I cannot identify the maker, madame, other than to say I do not believe it to be Canadian,” he went on, still in French. He saw her face fall, and decided to go a step further. “Perhaps I can still be of assistance, however. Veuillez attendre ici.” _(“Please wait here”)_ In his office, the jeweler took down a book of symbols - a directory of fine jewelry makers on two continents. He was familiar with those in Canada, as well as some in the U.S. He hadn’t said, but he felt it was not American, either. Ahh, yes, here it was. He returned to the front of the shop with the book.

“See, madame, I was correct. The seller, and perhaps the artist as well, is in London.”

London! She was shocked, and dismayed. Her $2000 would never get her to London and back. She had felt so close to knowing…she didn’t know what to do next. She had no passport, anyway. And, she had no other clues.

The jeweler saw her crestfallen look. Quickly, he pointed to the directory. “But look, madame, this dealer has American affiliates. Perhaps one of them can assist you.” He suspected that her search was a more important one that she let on, and he wanted to help her.

Jennifer looked at the list of affiliates – New York, Chicago, Los Angeles – her eye rested on that one briefly – and finally, Seattle. That one was within easier reach.

The jeweler said, “Madame, I can see that speaking to a dealer is important to you.” She could tell that he saw more than she was letting on, and it worried her – she didn’t want to share details. But she needed help.

“Yes. It is very important to me.” She wouldn’t say that in truth she sought the buyer, and didn’t elaborate further. But again he sensed her sincerity and a look in her eye that bespoke great need.

“Allow me to give you a reference for the affiliate dealer in Seattle. They should be familiar with our reputation and be able to help you. Please wait here.”

It was more than she’d hoped for when she’d entered the shop. She waited anxiously while he typed a letter for her in his office. Attaching his business card, he handed her an envelope with the letter inside.

“Bonne chance, madame. I hope you find what you’re searching for,” he said kindly. He hoped she’d be able to resolve the haunted look he saw in her eyes.

“Merci, merci beaucoup, monsieur,” Jennifer said, tears welling unexpectedly in her eyes at his perceptive comment. “I don’t know how to repay you.” She tried to offer him money, but he refused it.

“It is a small thing – I wish you good fortune. Au revoir,” he said, clasping the hand she held out to him, pleased that he could help her. He watched her leave, musing that her appearance and clothing seemed at odds with her style and grace.

Jennifer tried to contain her elation on the bus ride back to the motel. She still had a long way to go, but she was ready to leave Vancouver, and she’d feel better when it was far behind her. She stopped in a convenience store on the way to the motel, buying a British Columbia map; fortunately, they had a map of Washington State as well. She knew a passport wouldn’t necessarily be required to enter the U.S., but she had no documents at all – no U.S. driver’s license, no birth certificate, no ID of any kind. She didn’t even really have a name – only a last name she was sure wasn’t her own. And she didn’t want to be spotted crossing the border – she’d have to leave town, find a cross-country route. Or perhaps go by boat? No, she decided that she’d prefer to go overland – she could remain more anonymous that way. 

She scanned the maps, and decided to head east on the Canadian highway 1, until she could find a way across that wasn’t at a large border point – perhaps in Sumas? Or, if necessary, further east, into the Okanogan National Forest. She had become quite comfortable hiking and backpacking in her time north of Vancouver.

She had lunch at a diner and returned to the motel by early afternoon. She decided to just go – she didn’t want to be in Vancouver long, anyway. She gathered her things and checked out early, taking a taxi to the bus station. She preferred not to hitchhike unless absolutely necessary. She bought a one-way ticket to Abbotsford, using her cash from pawning the watch. She would take stock of things there, and spend the night.

*********

Jennifer arrived in Abbotsford without incident. Upon looking around, she realized that there were plenty of places to cross into the U.S. unnoticed – indeed, much traffic flowed freely between communities on either side of the border. She made her plans and slept peacefully for the first time in ages – no disturbing dreams, just restful, deep, sleep. She awoke refreshed, checked out, and began exploring southward.

(Wednesday, May 26)

In the end it was easy. As she crossed into the U.S., a sense of relief came over her. She felt safer, and closer to home, wherever that was, than she had minutes before. She made her way to state route 9 and began thumbing for a ride; soon she got a lift into Everson, where she was able to exchange some cash at a small bank, and found lunch in another diner. She found a ride with another trucker – a woman this time. Their route continued down 9, a scenic, winding road that paralleled the major highway, Route 5, to the west. Again there was some small talk, but no prying – the trucker knew women on the run had secrets, whether they were running toward something or away. She respected Jennifer’s reticence about herself. 

In this fashion, she made her way south, toward Seattle, arriving outside that city late at night. The trucker dropped her at a motel and told her how to reach the part of town with the shop address she was looking for. Jennifer was exhausted from her two days of traveling, and fell quickly asleep. She never even thought about the significance of it being Wednesday - the day of Scott’s return to the cabin.

*********

(Thursday, May 27)

In the morning, Jennifer took a taxi to the affiliate jeweler’s shop. She asked for the manager and presented her letter. After reading it, he ushered her into his office, and asked how he could help her. She explained that she was trying to track down any information he had on the ring, which she showed him saying that she thought it had been purchased in London.

“I can’t say why, but it is very important to me that I learn anything I can about this ring. It was very important to my mother that we find the artist, and perhaps the man who may have originally purchased it…” she ventured out on a limb to say.

The manager looked at her; he was not particularly impressed with her story. Without the letter, he may have turned her away, but he was sufficiently interested in how she’d gotten it – enough to stop and consider the harm in looking up the piece, the artist, at least, and then maybe even sharing the information with her. Maybe.

When he saw the ring and the artist insignia, he said, “Ah, yes, I recognize this artist’s work from my time in the London shop. He did exquisite work.”

“Did?”

“Yes – he passed away a few years ago. It was quite a loss – his work was extraordinary, as you can see.” She agreed. Then, she proceeded with the crucial question…

“Is there any way you can tell me who originally commissioned the piece? Were there any matching pieces made?” She could tell he was not too inclined to help, and she felt she might be saying too much, but she was determined not to leave without the information she needed, somehow…everything depended on it.

Seeing his hesitation, Jennifer said, “I’ve come such a long way to be here. Can’t you please help me? I’ve nothing else to go by.” She hadn’t meant to say something so direct, but she was growing desperate. 

The man frowned – it was a most irregular request, and protecting the privacy of their clients was paramount.

“I sympathize, ma’am, but it’s impossible. I can’t just give you - it’s just that we must protect our clients’ privacy. You understand.”

She nodded, disappointed, and made a show of getting upset. “It’s just that I must - ”

The phone on the desk interrupted her. The manager glanced at her as he reached for it, noting her effort to control her emotions. 

“Yes? All right, I’ll be right there.” He reached for a box of tissues, handed it to her, and said, “I have an important customer to see to. You can stay here for a minute to compose yourself, if you wish. I’ll be back to see you out.”

Jennifer observed his involuntary glance at the computer as he got up to leave. She waited a bare few seconds after the door was closed, to be sure he wasn’t coming right back, before she quickly got up and went around the desk. Sitting down, she saw that he hadn’t logged off…she quickly typed some key words into the program’s search bar: London, the artist’s name…a list of items appeared. She scrolled through it and clicked a link, which brought up photos of the various pieces. Another link brought up the purchase history of the piece. She went back to the list and narrowed her search, looking for rings, and then entered the inscription. And there it was…one click and it was confirmed by a photo; another, and she had the order information. It glowed on the screen, and her breath caught in her throat; her heart, she was sure, skipped a beat. 

“Mr. Jonathan Hart. 3100 Willow Pond Drive, Bel Air.” She read it out loud, softly, mesmerized. She recovered her wits and reached for a pen and paper, although it was already committed to memory. Then she backed out of the system, covering the tracks of her snooping as best as she could. She walked around the desk to the door and paused there, trying to compose herself before facing the manager on her way out. For her mind was reeling. She had found him - the pieces were beginning to fit! Jonathan – she’d been right about his name. And Hart! Not heart, as she’d written over and over on the paper she still had in her pocket. Jonathan Hart. It sounded good to her. Then she tried it – Jennifer Hart. Jennifer Hart. It felt like…like home. 

“I hope you find what you’re searching for,” the manager said as she passed by and thanked him for his time.

“I think I will. Thank you,” she said again, feeling flushed, and left. She felt the manager’s gaze on her, but she kept going, relieved to make it out without any further interaction with him. He turned back to his customer, and forgot about her.

Jennifer was overwhelmed. She walked toward a nearby park and found a bench to sit on. She had a name – two names! – her own, and her husband’s. She had a husband. She knew it! It was a strange thing to discover, when she had no actual memories of it. Just flitting glimpses in her mind…but she could feel the closeness of those memories, teasing her, taunting her, escaping her. As she sat there, she realized that she knew where to go. She had an address! A place to start. The next piece of the puzzle of her identity. She needed to get there – she had to. She knew all of the answers were there. She never doubted that he’d still be at that address, somehow. She rose and walked to the street corner and flagged down a taxi, returning to her motel.

She paused there, still feeling overwhelmed, and not just at the closeness of her past, but also with the lies and deception that had kept her so far away from it. Scott had helped perpetuate that distance. She now doubted everything that had happened, that he had ever said. It was a bitter realization of time lost, wasted.

She called the bus station and inquired about the next bus to Los Angeles. It was an overnight bus, leaving several hours later. She took the time to have a bath, to just be, think, feel. She found herself in tears, the weight of her whole situation over the last several months bearing down on her. 

The lies in her life since waking up in the hospital, the time lost with a husband she hoped was still there, alive - and, she hoped, who still loved her. Beyond that, she hoped that she could reclaim that life, once remembered – that she would want it back and that it wouldn’t be too late. 

She didn’t know what the past held for her. What if they hadn’t been happy? What if, after all of this lost time, he no longer cared? What if he’d begun to move on, to forget her? She felt a little ridiculous having such thoughts – perhaps it was her own despair regarding her current circumstances; her hope that such a love could exist for her - a different love than what Scott had offered her, one without ulterior motives and hidden agendas. Scott hadn’t offered her real love. She didn’t _know_ that she’d had true love before – but she hoped. 

Finally, she tapped into an inner core of strength she hadn’t known she possessed, to face the future no matter what it held in store for her. She would face her past, good or bad, as well. It would not conquer her. She would be her own person again, reclaim what she could, and move on. So she began to relax, biding her time until she’d have to call a taxi and move forward once again, to finally find the answers.

*********

(same day, May 27)

On Thursday afternoon, the jeweler in Vancouver checked the mail and saw that a new notice had come from the insurance agencies listing stolen and missing pieces. He received these updates regularly, and not wanting to receive stolen goods as he frequently bought second-hand pieces, he kept up with the postings avidly. As he flipped through the pages, his eyes landed on an extraordinary piece – a ring, one he had just seen. He quickly picked up the phone.

*********

The insurance company’s claims office was closing for the day, and the staff let the late call roll to the voice mail service. Whatever it was, they would address it in the morning.


	11. Chapter 11

**Part Eleven**

_I see the headlights  
Shining on the wall  
It seems I've got a visitor  
Who is kind enough to call  
And I hope and I pray, everyday  
I hope and I pray it's you.  
  
I thought I heard some footsteps  
On the floor  
And tell me am I dreaming  
Or is it someone at the door  
'Cos I hope and I pray  
Everyday  
I hope and pray, it's you_

_\- Moody Blues, “Hope and Pray”_

*********

(Friday, May 28)

When the phone rang early Friday morning, neither Max nor Mr. H was expecting a breakthrough. Mr. H was showering, planning to go to the office to deal with some business that his staff assured him could no longer wait. But it would have to.

Max was waiting for him when he emerged from the bathroom. Jonathan noted the peculiar look on his face.

“What is it, Max?”

“Mr. H, the insurance company called. Here’s the number,” was all Max could say.

With a sharp look at his friend, Jonathan glanced at the piece of paper. Could it really be something? He dared not hope too much as he placed the call.

“This is Jonathan Hart, returning your call –?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Hart. I knew you’d want to hear right away,” his agent began.

“What is it?”

“Apparently there’s been a potential sighting of your wife’s wedding ring.”

“What do you mean, a potential sighting? Has it been fenced?”

“No, we don’t believe so. A jeweler in Vancouver claims to have seen it – that a woman came in his shop with it a couple of days ago.”

“Vancouver? Do you have a name and address?” Jonathan thought his heart would explode through his chest, it was beating so hard. 

Max could see and feel the tension rising. “Sit down, Mr. H!” Jonathan complied without thinking, waving at Max to write down the information as he repeated it.

“Thanks. I’ll investigate this myself,” he said, hanging up quickly. Then he leaned over as he sat there, feeling dizzy.

“You all right, Mr. H?” He was concerned but eager to hear the news.

“Yeah, yeah, I think so,” Jonathan said. “I think we’re on to something. Someone in Vancouver has possibly seen Mrs. H’s wedding ring, and maybe her, too – a woman had it, anyway. Call Jack and have him meet me at the airport right away.”

“Right.”

“I need you to stay here, Max. In case there are any more calls.” 

Max didn’t like it, but he understood. “Ok, Mr. H. You got it. But call as soon as you know anything.”

“I will, Max.”

While he prepared to leave, Max called Jack, the Hart Industries pilot, and then got Mr. H a hotel reservation in Vancouver.

*********

The flight on the Hart Industries jet was uneventful, if stressful for the passenger. He tried to work on some Hart Industries paperwork, but he just couldn’t focus on it. By late morning, they had landed and Jonathan was on his way to the jeweler’s shop, without bothering to check into the hotel first. 

He entered the shop, noting the high quality of the jewelry for sale…his eye casually noted several fine pieces in the case before him, while he waited for the manager to finish with another customer. When he had, he approached Jonathan, asking how he could help him.

“My name is Jonathan Hart. I received a call from my insurance company about a ring?” He left it there. The jeweler was quick, however, and responded immediately. In a moment of clarity he thought he saw the same longing and desperation on this man’s face that he had observed on hers. Only his was more raw, more obvious, as if he knew what he’d lost, whereas she, perhaps, had not.

“Ah, yes, the ring. It was exquisite.”

“Was it this ring?” Jonathan asked, producing a photograph.

“Oui, monsieur, it was. A most beautiful piece. A woman came into my shop, 2-3 days ago, now, and showed me the ring.”

“Was she trying to sell it?”

“No, indeed, although I would have been very interested in it. No, she didn’t say much – only that she wanted to find the ring’s designer. She said she wanted to order a bracelet to match it.” Jonathan could see the doubt in the man’s eyes.

“But?”

“Well, it was her appearance, her manner of dress. She didn’t appear able to afford such a ring, let alone another piece to match – I assumed it had been a gift, perhaps handed down in the family.”

“Can you describe her?” His heart pounded, and he hesitated to pull out a photo, but he did. “Is this the lady?” He thought he saw a flicker of recognition.

“It could be, yes. I didn’t see her hair – it was under a cap. But it could be her. May I enquire…?”

“This is a photo of my wife. She’s missing.” It was still hard for him to say.

“If you don’t mind my saying so, sir….” Jonathan shook his head. “She struck me as sad, as if searching for something. She said very little, so that’s just an impression. She also seemed at odds, somehow, with her appearance – she had a certain style, or could have had. Her French was excellent – she spoke no English with me at all. It was a pleasure, actually. I wanted to help her, so I tracked the insignia inscribed inside the ring – every jeweler or designer has one – and told her it was purchased, or at least designed, in London.” He saw the gentleman’s nod of confirmation.

“I bought it for her there.”

“She seemed dismayed at that, and so intent on finding any information she could, so, seeing as she probably couldn’t get to London, I referred her to a U.S. affiliate shop in Seattle. And,” he hesitated, slightly embarrassed, but the man urged him to go on.

“I wanted to help her, but there seemed so little that I could do. I wrote her a reference to take with her to Seattle, in the hope it would open some doors for her.”

As he finished the story, Jonathan listened and took it all in. It just had to be Jennifer! And, it appeared, a Jennifer still without a memory. He was impressed by the man’s compassion and willingness to help a stranger. He thanked the jeweler, and got the address of the shop in Seattle – the next lead. Then he paused.

“There was another piece missing – a watch. Did she have it as well?”

“No, sir, just the ring. I’m quite sure. Was it a valuable piece?”

“Yes – a Rolex.” He described it.

“No, I’m certain…however, there was one odd thing. I told you her appearance was well, unremarkable in a way. Dressed like a hiker. But she offered to pay me for my trouble – I refused, naturally, having done nothing of monetary worth. She pulled out some bills, though she tried to hide it, and a pawn ticket fell on the counter. I handed it back to her, and didn’t pry. But I did recognize the ticket. Funny, it hadn’t occurred to me before. You’ll find the shop a few blocks from here.”

“Thank you.”

“Wait – the owner is a good man but speaks very little English.” He went to a door and called up a set of stairs. “My son, Rene, will go with you.”

“Thank you – merci – I can’t tell you how helpful you’ve been.”

“Good luck, monsieur. I hope you find your wife. I wish you both well.”

“Thank you.”

*********

Jonathan went with the boy, who appeared to be about fourteen years old. When they arrived, he translated for Jonathan, who asked if Jennifer had been there and showed him the photo, but the man was uncertain. So he showed him a picture of the watch.

“Well, I have one like that, but it’s on reserve.”

“Can I see it?” Some cash encouraged him to produce it.

It was the one – he knew as soon as he saw it, even before he flipped it over and saw the inscription.

“How much do you want for it?”

“I told you, it’s on a 30-day reserve. The lady gave up additional cash to keep it on reserve.”

“Are you sure it isn’t this woman?”

“I can’t tell you – her hair was hidden and she wore dark glasses.”

“Well, I _am_ certain. The watch belonged – belongs, to my wife. I gave it to her. I had it inscribed. And I need it back. I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you what you gave her for the pawn, plus the reserve on top of that. What do you say?”

The pawnbroker hedged – it was irregular, and he was pretty sure that his customer intended to return for it. She had the ticket, after all.

“Look, this is very important to me. I’ll make it worth your while. And I’ll leave my card – if she comes back for it, she can contact me directly.”

The man could tell he was in earnest. He wasn’t sure, but he named a fair price – what he could conceivably have sold it for, once the reserve was up.

Jonathan paid the man and considered it a bargain - well worth any price. He said, “If I’m right, and I desperately hope that I am, the lady will get her watch back very soon.”

He thanked Rene for his able assistance and stopped with him for an ice cream, suspecting, if he was anything like his father, that he wouldn’t accept money. He almost enjoyed the brief respite, but was anxious to be on his way to Seattle. Seeing Rene home, he gave him his business card with instructions to give it to his father, and to let him know if there was ever anything he could do for them. The boy thanked him and wished him luck as he went inside.


	12. Chapter 12

**Part Twelve**

_Return to me  
Oh my dear I’m so lonely  
Hurry back, hurry back  
Oh my love hurry back  
I am yours  
  
Return to me  
For my heart wants you only  
Hurry home, hurry home  
Won't you please hurry home  
To my heart  
_ _\- Dean Martin, “Return to Me”_

*********

(Friday, May 28)

Jennifer paid the taxi driver and turned to face the large white gate before her. It had a large black H on it, and seemed familiar. Suddenly she was nervous, uncertain. But she squared her shoulders and pressed the call button to the left of the gate. A few moments went by, then a craggy, gruff voice answered.

“Yeah?”

She was a bit taken aback – it wasn’t the voice she’d heard in her dreams, and yet…

“Um, hello,” she started, nervous again and uncertain what exactly to say. “I, I’m looking for a Mr. Jonathan Hart. My name is Jennifer.”

Max’s jaw dropped and he didn’t trust what he’d just heard. So he played it safe.

“This is the Hart residence. Please come up, Jennifer. Wait – do you have a car?”

“No, I took a taxi – it’s gone.”

“Come inside the gate and wait for me. I’ll be right down to get you.”

“Okay.” She couldn’t explain why, but she trusted his voice.

Max disconnected and sat down for a second to absorb what was happening. Mrs. H was at the gate! Asking to be let in, as if she didn’t know where she was. So she still had the amnesia that the nurse had mentioned…Max had a sense of foreboding about that. But she’d found her way here. He could handle this. He’d better call Mr. H, but first he had to get her into the house. He took off for the gate in the Rolls.

*********

Jennifer waited anxiously, and then saw a beautiful green car come down the drive. It, along with the scenery and the craggy voice, seemed very familiar to her.

Max got out of the car and approached her. She looked okay – healthy, at least. Longer hair. A touch thinner, maybe.

“Mrs. – uh, Jennifer?” 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak yet, and he joined her to sit on the grass.

“Do you know me?” she asked, and he could’ve cried.

“Yeah, of course I do. You’re Jennifer Edwards Hart, Jonathan Hart’s wife. He’s been out looking for you.”

“Then, it’s true. I hoped…”

“Do you know me?” Max asked.

“I, I’m not sure…I think I do.” A piece of the puzzle fell into place in her head. “Is your name Max?” She asked, drawing from the list of words she’d written all those weeks ago. 

The relief on his face, and his big smile, told her she’d guessed correctly.

“I live here and work for you and Mr. H. We’ve been searching for you for months. I thought Mr. H would go out of his mind…but you must be tired, and have questions. Would you like to go up to the house?”

She nodded. They got into the car, and on the drive up, he asked tentatively, “Uh, how much do you remember?” He wanted to ask her so many questions.

“Not much, Max. But I found this place, and I hope things will start coming back to me now that I’m here. I’ve had a very strong sense of déjà vu ever since getting out of the taxi.”

It was awkward, this conversation, for both of them. They continued the rest of the short drive in silence, each with their own thoughts.

When they pulled up in front of the house, Jennifer gasped in recognition. “I know this place! I know it – I lived here.” The last was to herself, quietly.

“Yes, Mrs. H.” The nickname was familiar, comfortable.

“And, Jonathan…” she said the name tentatively, as if trying it on, “he’s here, too?”

“No, I mean, yes, of course he lives here. But he’s away – he’s in Vancouver, looking - ”

“Vancouver! How did he know?”

“Your ring – he reported it missing to the insurance company. They called, just this morning. So he left right away to go there, to find you.”

“He did?” She felt a sudden rush of inexplicable joy. “Then…”

“Yeah, Mrs. H.” Max said it emphatically, but gently.

He showed her into the house and guided her to the couch, where they sat down, as she went on. “All I have are glimpses, brief visions, nothing more. No memories! Just a sense of, of hope, longing - love, I think…” her eyes fell on a photograph of herself, and him, the man in her dreams. They were facing each other, about to kiss, she thought. She picked it up, feeling wonder at the proof of him, of _them_. “I couldn’t remember, but I so wanted…” she set the photo down and covered her face with her hands, and when he moved to embrace her, she accepted the comfort she found there. “Oh Max, why? Why can’t I remember? What happened to me?” He just held her, unsure of what else to do. He wanted to phone Mr. H, but it would have to wait – he didn’t want to leave her alone, and wasn’t even sure how to reach him directly. She sat up and composed herself, embarrassed.

“Mrs. H, I promise you, everything is gonna be fine. You’ll see. You’re home now, where you belong, and we’ll sort it all out.” She found it easy to believe him.

“Would you like some tea? Or coffee?”

She smiled. “Yes, Max. I’d love some tea.”

Relieved, he got up to go into the kitchen, letting Freeway through. He ran to her, excitedly jumping up onto the couch to greet her. Jennifer exclaimed, “Hello, boy! I think you missed me!” She looked at Max questioningly.

“This is Freeway.” She gave him a puzzled look. “That’s because we found him on a freeway and brought him home.” She smiled and played with the dog, then got up to look around the room for the first time with interest, as Max went into the kitchen.

White couches by the fireplace – an image came to her mind, of him, sitting next to her - kissing her? - on that couch. Fine art. A baby grand piano – she wondered who played it. A bar. A desk. A spiral staircase up to a library. The room was charming and she loved it. She looked out the picture window at the landscaped yard, and wondered, again, what the future held. But he had gone after her. He loved her. For now, it was enough to know.

*********

Max brought the tea and they enjoyed it together, not saying much. Afterward he offered to show her around the home – she was glad of the tour. Max ended it in the master bedroom, and said, “I thought you might want to freshen up, get used to things, maybe rest a while…?” She looked exhausted.

Jennifer was thankful for the suggestion, realizing how tired she’d become. It was all so overwhelming! She wanted to believe Max that everything would be okay, but thought she wouldn’t know for sure, in her heart, until Jonathan returned and she saw him. She ended up lying down to rest on the bed, and immediately fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. 

*********

Jonathan returned to the Vancouver airport, where Jack was standing by with the plane, serviced and ready to go. Jonathan had him call in a flight plan to Seattle, then settled in to wait. They were in the air when the intercom buzzed.

“There’s a call coming through for you, Mr. Hart.”

“Okay, Jack, thanks.”

“Mr. H!”

“Max, what is it? I’m on my way to Seattle…”

“No, Mr. H – you have to come home _now_.”

“What-?”

“Mr. H, she’s _here_. Mrs. H is here!” Jonathan could hear the disbelief and jubilation in Max’s voice.

“What?? How-?”

“She just showed up a little while ago, at the gate.”

“ _Tell_ me, Max!”

“Mr. H, I haven’t gotten the story. I don’t know where she’s been. But she seemed to recognize the house, and either remembered or else figured out my name.” He paused, knowing the next part would be difficult for Mr. H to hear, even though they’d acknowledged the possibility before.

“She’s had flashes, visions, of you – well, I’m not sure exactly. It seems she has no real memories. But she found you, Mr. H. She came home all the same – somehow.” He stopped, not sure what else he could add.

Jonathan was silent, overwhelmed. He closed his eyes. He was so relieved and happy - she was home! She was found, or rather, he was.

“Can you put her on the phone?” He was desperate to hear her voice.

“Mr. H, she’s asleep. She seemed so overwhelmed, and she looked exhausted. I don’t know what she went through to get here. So I gave her a tour of the house and suggested she get some rest.”

The thought that Jennifer would need a tour of their home drove in the idea – no, the reality – of her amnesia, an outcome he had been prepared for. But he didn’t care! She was back and they would work together to restore the gaps in her past.

“Well, okay, Max. Let her rest. Keep an eye on her until I get there. It should be a few hours yet.”

“Okay, Mr. H. I won’t let anything happen. Should I call Lt. Grey?”

Jonathan thought about that. “Let’s give her some time, Max, and keep this between us for a while.”

“Right. Be careful getting back, Mr. H.”

“Okay. You can bet on it.” 

After having Jack radio in the new flight plan back to L.A., Jonathan was lost in his thoughts and memories for the rest of the flight, and anxious for the trip to be over. Finally he was on the ground and driving home. He tried to be calm, not rush, but he still made it home in record time.

Max heard the car and greeted him at the door as he rushed in.

“Where - ?” he asked, gripping Max’s arm. He pointed up the stairs. Their eyes met briefly and Jonathan hesitated.

“It’s okay, Mr. H, really. You’ll work it out. Go on.”

As Mr. H went quickly but quietly up the stairs, Max, at a loss for anything else to do, went to the kitchen to finish making some of Mrs. H’s favorite foods.

*********

Jonathan paused again at the door to their bedroom before going in. After so long and fruitless a search, he could hardly believe that he’d find her on the other side of the door. He found he was holding his breath…letting it go, he went in.

There she was, lying on her side of the bed, facing away from him toward the window. He knew instantly that it was really her. He could tell that she was in a deep sleep. _“Is she thinner?”_ He wondered, as he circled the end of the bed, noting that her hair was styled differently, and perhaps longer, as well. He sank to his knees at her side, drinking in her face, her hair, everything about her, like a thirsty man at an oasis, tears coming to his eyes. He reached out a hand, letting it hover by her head, but he didn’t want to disturb her. So he sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall by the window where he could watch her sleeping. Then he lowered his head to his arm, propped up by his stronger leg, and gave in to the overwhelming emotions from months of despair, grief, and dashed hopes, mixed with the relief and joy of finally seeing her here, at long last returned to him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Part Thirteen**

_In walked love  
In walked you  
In walked all my dreams coming true  
Right through my door  
I saw your face and I knew  
All I'd looked for I had found in you  
I found the one that I'd been dreaming of…  
_

_\- Exposé, “In Walked Love”_

*********

As Jennifer woke up and awareness of her surroundings returned, she realized that someone was in the room with her. Opening her eyes, she saw a man sitting a few feet away. His head was lowered, and his body was shaking softly. As she watched him, lost in his own emotions, it was clear that he had suffered a great loss – one she then realized she had been spared. For her, this man and the love they must have shared had just been an idea, a wish, all these months…a dream or vision that mostly hadn’t seemed real. Because she didn’t remember their relationship, she hadn’t really felt the loss of it. But this man before her…he had known it – it was real for him. Her heart went out to him. She was sure she had loved him Before, that it had been as natural for her as breathing…and she hoped it would be possible again.

“Jonathan?” She asked, tentatively.

He raised tear-filled eyes to meet hers and in that moment she felt she knew him, heart and soul. Intimately. That she’d drowned in the depths of his blue eyes a million times Before.

Jonathan heard the uncertainty in her voice when she’d spoken his name. Now, as he looked up at her, he thought – hoped - he saw a flash of recognition in the beautiful eyes he knew so well. He could hardly believe he was looking into them again, at last.

She reached out to him, and then he was at her side, kneeling beside the bed. She found herself embracing him gently, her arms encircling him, a hand going to the back of his head. She wanted to comfort him, to dispel the haunted look in his eyes…she offered him what strength she had, and it felt completely natural to her to do so. His arms went around her waist and he hugged her to him tightly, as if afraid she wasn’t really there in his arms. He murmured her name again and again. 

“Jennifer, Jennifer! Darling! I was afraid I had lost you – really lost you, forever this time.” The endearment rocked her – it was so natural coming from his lips, and so different from when Scott had said it. But she pushed thoughts of Scott aside.

She let him hold her, and minutes passed that neither were aware of. Jennifer was surprised to find that her need of him was just as great as his, as waves of sensations washed over her, bits and pieces of her earlier dreams springing back to her mind. She sensed that he was overwhelmed and knew instinctively that he rarely let such emotion show. Love, yes – constantly, she’d wager. But not vulnerability, or weakness, or fear. As they continued to simply hold each other, she absently ran her fingers through his hair in a soothing gesture, and his grip on her eased.

“Jonathan?” She asked again.

He let go of her enough to look into her eyes, again sensing the hesitation in her voice.

“Do you remember me? Us?” he asked.

“I, I feel I know you…but I don’t quite remember...I’m beginning to, I think.” She put her hand to his face, running her thumb over his cheek tenderly. “I know you from my dreams - your eyes and your smile, your voice even – they were there, sometimes, but I didn’t know who you were.”

She paused, something he’d said earlier coming back to her mind. “What did you mean when you said, _this time_? – That you were afraid you’d lost me for good _this time_?” It seemed an odd way to put it.

Jonathan sat next to her on the bed, holding her hands in his. He didn’t quite know how to start answering her question. “How much do you remember? About us – our life together? Anything?” 

She was shaking her head. “Nothing, really, I’m sorry to say…just bits and pieces, visions of you…a nightmare…”

“Do you remember the accident? We were on our way to the Bridgemans’ party. A van clipped us.”

“No, I don’t really – just the nightmare.”

He nodded, encouraging her to go on.

“I see…your face, but I don’t know whose it is – and bright light. Then your image breaks into shards, like glass cracking and exploding. And there’s screeching metal, and, and pain, and a voice - yours? - calling my name…it was the only thing I knew about myself when I woke up in the hospital. My first name. And I wasn’t even certain it _was_ my own name.”

He smiled. “It is. What do you know about how you got to the hospital? Do you remember any of it?” He was cautiously probing to see what she knew, or what she’d been told.

“I don’t remember anything…except, I think I remember answering some questions, from a nurse, I think. Then nothing, until I woke up again later, in the hospital. They told me it was weeks later.”

“Do you know what happened to you?”

“No. I don’t remember any of it - they said I was in a mountain climbing accident, but…”

“But?”

“That doesn’t fit with my memory of…with the nightmare.” She seemed confused.

“That’s because you weren’t in a mountain climbing accident. We’ve had plenty of adventures, but mountain climbing isn’t one of them.” There was a slight smile on his lips, but Jennifer could tell that he was quite serious.

“So it was a car accident?”

“Yes. Here in L.A. Somehow you were taken to Vancouver.”

“How did you know…?”

“Well, let’s just say we got a few lucky breaks - a bright young police detective who was working on your case went on vacation, heard a story and got a hunch. And then there was the insurance report on your jewelry – the best lead so far. We never quite found you…what few leads we had quickly became dead ends, or like today, I was a few steps behind you. But you managed to find your own way back.” She could see wonder and admiration in his eyes.

“Yes, I did…I had a few clues, and I got some help along the way.”

“What clues, Darling?”

“The ring, and the watch,” she said as she smiled at him, then looked at the ring on her finger. “I had to pawn the watch for money – but I’d like to go back for it.”

Jonathan smiled and reached into his pocket. “Close your eyes,” he said.

She did, wondering, and he took the watch and placed it around her wrist, causing her eyes to fly open. “Oh! How did you find it? Thank you!” She said shyly as she admired the delicate watch, happy to have it back.

“I reported your jewelry as missing to the insurance company, and they got a tip that it – the ring - had been seen in Vancouver. The jeweler who helped you was able to direct me to the pawn shop.”

“The pawn ticket – he saw it. But I placed a reserve on the watch.”

“I was, ah, very persuasive.”

At that moment there came a very light rap on the door.

“Come in, Max,” Jonathan called, without looking away from her.

“I don’t wanna intrude, Mr. and Mrs. H, but it’s really gettin’ late and you guys haven’t eaten…”

“Thanks, Max, we’ll be right down. Jennifer, why don’t you go ahead? I’ll be right there.”

He squeezed her hands and leaned toward her, resting his cheek against hers for a moment, then kissed it lightly. He was having a hard time keeping his hands off of her; he felt a strong need to touch her – to reassure himself that she was really there, perhaps – but he tried to resist, knowing it might make her uncomfortable.

Jennifer had to acknowledge that she was famished. Her emotions were running so high that she felt she needed some space from him for even a few minutes, and that he may need the same, so she nodded and left to go downstairs with Max. Jonathan went to the bathroom and leaned over the sink, heaved a sigh and splashed water on his face. He felt numb, yet also alive. She was back! But there were still so many questions to be answered.

*********

Jennifer joined Max in the kitchen, and sat at the table.

“I made up some of your favorites, Mrs. H,” he said.

“Thank you, Max,” she said, eager to see what he’d come up with for her. _‘What do I like?’_ she wondered, and was amused with the thought. She hesitated, then went on with a question that had been on her mind. 

“Um, Max…how long has it been, exactly, since the accident?”

“Well, let’s see…it’s been about five months. The accident was on New Year’s Eve.”

Calculating in her head, she said, “It’s been about three and a half months since I woke up in the hospital.” She was silent for a few moments. Then she went on, changing topics, “It, ah, appears to have been very hard on Jonathan - Mr. H.”

Max brought the food to the table. “Yeah, it has been. I’ve been very worried, about both of you. I worried about his health – I mean, after he’d recovered from the accident.”

“Was he very badly hurt?”

“He had a compound fracture in his left leg and a pretty bad concussion. They took you to separate hospitals. I can tell you Mr. H didn’t like that at all. He knew you were unconscious and pretty badly hurt. When he woke up later, he couldn’t learn anything about you, about your condition. I thought he’d go crazy not knowing. He raised some hell, was generally a difficult patient…they kept him sedated a lot. Too much, in my opinion. It didn’t help matters much at first. Later, it seemed a blessing.”

Jennifer found herself believing he’d been difficult, and wondered at Max’s last comment, but he had continued speaking.

“When I got the call that night, I went to find you first – I knew that’s what Mr. H would want. You were at L.A. Methodist, and he was taken to Cedars Sinai. ”

“L.A. Methodist!” A creepy feeling was beginning to move up her spine. Jonathan had said the accident had been in L.A., but the implications of that were only now beginning to sink in.

“Yeah – they say you woke up briefly in the ER – do you remember that?”

“No…I seem to recall questions, I don’t know. I thought that was at St. Christopher’s, in Vancouver. But you said LA Methodist – how did I get to Vancouver?” The creepy feeling was intensifying. The dimension and scope of whatever had happened exploded suddenly into giant proportions, and was threatening to grow out of control. And she realized that Scott had had something to do with her being taken away…just how much did he know?

“The best we can figure is that you were flown there by helicopter. After the ER, you never regained consciousness. I saw you, talked to your doctors. When they decided to move you to Cedars, I was supposed to go with you. But the attendants wouldn’t let me get on. Then…the helicopter never got there.”

Jennifer was shocked, and she could see that Max felt a great deal of responsibility for what had happened. “But why? Who would do something like that?”

“We don’t know, Mrs. H. We’ve been tryin’ to figure that out ever since, when we haven’t been out looking for you.”

There was a short silence between them as they both thought things over. Jennifer didn’t want to think about the greater implications right then, so she turned the conversation back to Mr. H.

“How was Mr. H – after?”

Max paused. “Not so good…he can be a very driven man, a real take-charge kind of guy. But he couldn’t be in control this time.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You two have gotten mixed up in some pretty dangerous situations over the years, but they always worked themselves out sooner or later – usually sooner. This was different. He was injured himself, so he couldn’t go chasing after you. And there was no trail of any kind – no one to suspect, no rhyme or reason to it. You just vanished without a trace.”

“It must’ve been hard on him.”

“Yeah, it was.” Max sat down next to her. “You’re his life. The only saving grace here was that he had no proof of your death. I think that would’ve killed him. But instead he had something to live for – finding you.”

Jennifer was stunned, but reassured, as well. 

“It sounds like you know him very well,” she said.

“Yeah, me and Mr. H, we go way back. I first met him when he was still wet behind the ears and had a knack for getting into trouble. I had to box those ears of his a few times before he straightened himself out. Been watchin’ over him more or less ever since.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he told her this story; Jennifer could tell that they must be very close.

“You were the best thing that ever happened to him - to us. You two - you’re my family.” He patted her hand, and she smiled at him, glad that Mr. H had had such a friend these last several months.

*********

Jonathan joined them a few minutes later.

“Jennifer, in the morning I’d like to have Susan Kendall come over. She’s a doctor, and a friend. I called her and she agreed to make a house call. I want to be sure you’re okay.”

Jennifer nodded. “Okay.” She would find it welcome. This doctor could clear up some things, ease her mind about the pills, perhaps. 

They had some devil’s food cake, keeping the conversation to general things, some memories recounted by Jonathan and Max, but nothing relating to the past few months. Jonathan wanted to give her some time to settle in, so he didn’t press things, and Max followed his lead.

When Jonathan saw her try to stifle a yawn, he said, “You must be exhausted. Let me show you where everything is.” She nodded, glad for a reprieve from any more talk that evening. On his way out, Jonathan looked at Max, who moved to put water in the tea kettle.

Upstairs, after he’d shown her where her things were, she said, “I think I’d like to take a bath, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. Jennifer…” he waited until she turned around. “Ah, if it would make you more comfortable, I can sleep in the guest room tonight.”

She appreciated the offer, but felt it wasn’t necessary. She was nervous but wanted things to be as normal as possible between them.

“Jonathan, I want to reclaim my memory and the best way to do that is for things to be as normal as we can make them.” He saw a flicker of doubt cross her face. She went on in a rush, “I’m not sure I’m ready for – well…” she hesitated. “I, I just don’t want you to sleep in the guest room. It wouldn’t feel right.”

“All right,” he said in a soft whisper that sent a thrill through her. He approached her and gently caressed her arms. “We’ll take things slowly. You call the shots, okay?” He tilted her chin up, so their eyes met. “I love you so very, very much.” She returned his embrace, and found her body responding to his…but she wasn’t ready for such intimacy, not yet. In any case, she felt a need to wait, at least until she saw Dr. Kendall.

He let her go, saying, “Enjoy your bath. I’ll be up in a little while.” She smiled at him and nodded as he backed out of the bathroom and closed the door.

*********

Downstairs, Max was waiting for him to come have their nightly tea. Jonathan came in and sat down, and they looked at each other. He heaved a sigh, but felt lighter – things were so different, suddenly, in just a few hours! His thoughts, and his worries, had a whole new focus.

“How’s she doing, Mr. H?”

“She’s okay, I think, Max. At least physically, although she looks thinner. She hasn’t told me very much, yet. I told her about the accident. She doesn’t remember it, but she has nightmares about it. She was taken to St. Christopher’s Hospital in Vancouver, just like we thought.”

Max just nodded. He’d known the shape she was in at the hospital.

Jonathan said, “They told her she’d had a climbing accident in the mountains – just like in Detective Markowicz’s story. So, that really could have been her.” The sheer coincidence of it amazed him. “We didn’t get any further than that, but she seems to have some doubts about her past – and I have a feeling that someone planted them in her mind. The question is why.”

“Someone wanted to hurt you guys, make you suffer, Mr. H. We have to find out who.”

“Yes, we do. But for now our priority has to be Mrs. H and her health – helping bring her memory back, and making her comfortable with us.” 

Max was nodding in agreement. Mr. H would find the ones responsible if it was the last thing he ever did, but he was focusing on her now.

They finished their tea, and as they got up to go to bed, Jonathan said, “Thank you, Max, for being here. And I don’t just mean for the past few months. I mean for always being there.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. H. I couldn’t be prouder of you if you were my own flesh and blood.” It was rare for them to discuss the closeness of the bond between them. 

“You’ve been like a father to me, and my – our – dearest friend. I love you, Max.” 

“I love you, and Mrs. H, too. I’m so glad she’s home,” he said as he gripped Mr. H’s arm.

“Good night, Max,” Jonathan said, patting his shoulder.

“Good night, Mr. H.”

*********

When Jonathan went upstairs, Jennifer was still in the bath. Normally, he would have joined her…but things weren’t normal, yet. He could be patient – it was enough that she was here, at home. He changed into his pajamas and brushed his teeth, then got into bed with a magazine, but he couldn’t concentrate on it. Lost in thought, he didn’t hear her moving around until she came into the room, dressed for bed in her own silk pajamas and robe, having avoided the appealing variety of gowns in her closet.

She stopped, shy and a bit nervous to find him already there; he looked up at her as she approached. But she took a deep breath and, removing her robe, sat down on the edge of the bed, glancing at him then looking away again.

“It appears that we – or you, I mean - seem to do pretty well for yourself…” she said, uncertain what to say, or where she stood with him.

“Yes, we do,” he replied.

“And, ah…we, we’re happy here? Together?” It came out as a whisper.

He moved closer to her and reached out to squeeze her hand, saying softly, “Yes, Jennifer, we are. Very happy.”

She turned to face him, then, and nodded as she got under the covers, a slight smile on her lips. “I think I believe you,” she said.

Jonathan smiled, wistfully…he knew she was trying to lighten the mood a little, but he didn’t want her simply to believe him…he wanted her to know it, to feel it, for herself. Well, he was confident that it would come, in time.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked her, looking into her eyes.

“Yes, thank you,” she said, glancing down, shy again.

“Good night, then,” he said. He hesitated, then kissed her lips – a soft, gentle kiss. Then he reached to turn off the lights.

“Good night.” She lay back and closed her eyes, noticing that her lips still tingled from his kiss. She was exhausted from the journey that had brought her here, and emotionally drained as well, but she felt safe in this house, with Jonathan, as if she belonged here. She fell asleep easily. 

Jonathan, however, lay awake for some time, unable to stop the thoughts going through his mind. He went over and over everything he knew, and wondered about the unresolved questions concerning what had happened to her. He couldn’t stop thinking about it…but finally he noticed her steady breathing, telling him that she was asleep. So he lay on his side facing her, but not touching her, again where he could look at her while she slept. Soon the sound of her breathing, proving her presence again in their bed, lulled him into a more peaceful sleep than he’d had in months.


	14. Chapter 14

**Part Fourteen**

_Though I’ve tried I’ve fallen_

_I have sunk so low_

_I messed up_

_Better I should know_

_So don’t come round here and_

_Tell me you told me so_

\- _Sarah McLachlan, “Fallen”_

*********

With a single cry, Jennifer sat bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding.

“Jennifer! What is it?” Jonathan asked, also sitting up, his own heart racing. “Is it the nightmare? About the accident?” He reached out, wanting to hold her, but just stroked her arm instead.

She could only nod. It had been, but there had been more. She had dreamt about the evening of the accident – but all of it, this time: Getting ready for the party. Jonathan teasing, playing, trying to distract her as she did her hair. She remembered then that he _always_ did that, and that she always started getting ready to go out well in advance – looking forward to the exchanges, and the dalliances that followed before they ever got out the door. That night, he had nuzzled her neck, told her she looked beautiful, kissed her passionately…as had happened so many times before, they’d been late leaving for the party, and it was…lovely, as usual. Afterward he’d watched as she fixed her hair, her make-up…and she’d known there would be more after the party. In all the years they’d been together, their passion for each other had never waned. She smiled at her first real memory of her life Before – of them, together.

After their interlude had come the ride in the car, and the accident – that part of the dream was the same. But this time, Scott had been driving the black van that had forced them off the road. “It couldn’t have been…” she murmured to herself. Rationally, she knew it hadn’t been – Scott was a doctor in Vancouver. But still it rattled her. 

Then, as if prompted by the dream, more memories of her life with Jonathan came flooding back to her mind…meeting him at the Ritz; the magical evening they’d shared seeing London by night…his proposal by the London Bridge less than 2 days later, followed by the wedding and their honeymoon in the Napa Valley…and everything their life together had been since. These new-found memories confirmed what she’d hoped for, what she’d wanted to believe ever since arriving on Willow Pond Drive, filling her with such happiness that it was overwhelming. Her love for him came rushing back – not a dream, not a hope or a wish, but reality. But then, the more recent reality of the past few months threatened to drown her in anguish. She felt the blood drain from her face as the thoughts she’d been hiding from made their way to the surface.

Jonathan grew alarmed when she paled. “Darling, what is it?” He thought he’d seen her looking at him with a new clarity – no, with love in her eyes…he thought he’d seen _her_ again, Jennifer Hart, his wife. But then her expression had changed, to one he couldn’t identify.

“Jonathan? I…” Her eyes met his before looking hastily away, and she let go of his hands.

She couldn’t go on, couldn’t admit she remembered their life together – and that she had betrayed it. He watched as her face clouded over again, and wasn’t sure he’d really seen….

_‘What have I done? What have I done?’_ she thought to herself – and she _was_ herself, with an identity she could, at last, claim as her own. She knew it would take time to regain all of her memories, but she discovered that she knew who she was, and she knew the man beside her - his strengths, charm, wit, intelligence, and kindness, and his weaknesses and flaws as well. For a moment she felt overjoyed to be back in her own skin, with her own memories and emotions, again. Until she thought of certain events of the last few months. Until she remembered Scott. 

Now, as Jennifer Hart again, she found that she couldn’t forgive herself for any of it - not even for forgetting. Rational or not, she feared that her husband, so newly restored to her, would not be able to forgive her, either. _‘What will he do?’_ she wondered. Tear off to Canada on a mission? Stop looking at her with such love in his eyes as he had tonight? Would it forever change everything between them, just as they had found each other again? She could not bear it. She felt she had betrayed not just Jonathan, but herself and their relationship - their love for each other. The rawness of the realization was too great, and she was afraid of what it would do to this man she loved. She knew he’d kill to protect her – had he, before? – that he could have a protective, if not jealous streak. But from the very beginning of their relationship, there had never been any question of either of them straying. How would he react to this? She had known what she was doing, and had done it deliberately, even if she hadn’t known who she, or he, was….

And so she turned from him, admitting nothing. “Excuse me,” she whispered as she rose. Did he hear a catch in her voice?

“Darling…Jennifer, are you all right?”

“Yes, I…ah, just give me a minute,” she said as she left for the bathroom and closed the door. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, and truly recognized the person there, for the first time in ages. Jennifer Edwards Hart…Jennifer Hart…Mrs. Jonathan Hart…. She choked back a sob, not wanting him to hear, and closed her eyes against her reflection, against her own sense of self-recrimination and self-accusation. Could she have done differently? Could he forgive her? Could she forgive herself for the one thing she never would have thought herself capable of? It had happened! How could she – or he – overlook it?

Jonathan rose and hesitantly went to stand by the door, where he thought he heard muffled crying. He rested his hand and forehead on the door, closing his eyes, but didn’t knock, didn’t call to her. He knew something had changed. He was torn, wanting to comfort her, but he left her in privacy and returned to bed to wait. Despite himself he dozed a bit, rousing again when she returned, flicking off the light quickly so he wouldn’t see her reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“Jennifer, are you okay? Can I do anything for you?”

She hesitated a brief second, in her heart longing to be close to him, and said, “Yes…please, Jonathan, would you just hold me?” She would take what comfort he’d offer her, while she could.

Jonathan was relieved, but only just, and not questioning her any further, he said, “Of course.” He slid over to spoon her body, wrapping his arms around her and saying softly, “Shh. Everything will be okay.” He felt the tension in her body ease slightly and was glad.

“Promise?” she asked, her voice breaking, and had a sense of déjà vu.

“I promise.” His whisper broke her heart. _When he knew, would he be able to keep that promise?_ She sighed, happy to be in his arms for however long it lasted. Finally they fell into sleep again, and this time, thankfully, it was dreamless.


	15. Chapter 15

**Part Fifteen**

_I will be the answer at the end of the line  
I will be there for you while you take the time  
In the burning of uncertainty I will be your solid ground  
I will hold the balance if you can't look down  
  
If it takes my whole life I won't break, I won't bend  
It will all be worth it, worth it in the end  
Because I can only tell you what I know  
That I need you in my life_

_When the stars have all gone out  
You'll still be burning so bright _

_\- Sarah McLachlan, “Answer”_

*********

(Saturday, May 29)

Jennifer gradually awoke, and smiled at the warm security of her husband’s arms around her. During the night they had shifted positions; her head was resting on his chest, an arm flung across his waist. She loved waking in this position. She could hear the steady beat of his heart, feel the rise and fall of his chest under her cheek as he breathed, and enjoy the comforting feel of his arms holding her. They’d awoken like this countless times before, and for a long moment it was like the past five months hadn’t happened. But then the nightmare, and the realizations that arose with it, flooded back into her mind, and she stiffened involuntarily. In his sleep, Jonathan held her a little more closely, and she relaxed with an effort, taking a deep breath.

But as she lay there, her thoughts swirled around the conflicting emotions of rediscovered love mixed with regret. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she couldn’t change anything that had happened, and that she had not been herself for a long time...but she still had the memory of it. Those memories insinuated themselves into her thoughts and were at odds with all Jennifer Hart knew about herself and her commitment to this man who was her soul-mate. She could not reconcile the two facts – that of her real life and a love she could never betray, and that of a more recent time when it seemed that she had in fact done so. She wanted desperately to banish all memory of the mountain cabin from her mind forever - to forget the time spent there, forget the pills, forget Scott. 

Much as she craved this physical closeness to Jonathan, Jennifer also felt such conflict that she needed some space, some time to think about what to do, before facing him again. She looked at him, sleeping so deeply and peacefully, and, knowing that such rest had probably been a rarity for him of late, didn’t want to wake him. So she gently shifted in his arms and raised herself on her elbow, trying to disengage his hold on her without disturbing him. Then she paused, looking down at him again before rising, and felt her love for him so acutely that her chest ached with it. 

She leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Jonathan, I love you. So much.” When he stirred, turning towards her voice, she whispered again. “Shh, Darling, go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.” He settled again into a deeper sleep, and she rose quietly and left to take a shower.

A little while later when Jonathan awoke, he felt a moment of panic when she wasn’t there, fearing that her presence hadn’t been real, after all. But he seemed to recall her voice, as if in a dream, telling him that she loved him and assuring him that she’d be there when he awoke, and as he lay there and calmed his beating heart, he could hear the shower running. She was here, after all; she really was back. Then he remembered her nightmare, and the change that had come over her in its aftermath. But he tried not to be concerned about it; whatever it was about, whatever its effects, they would work it out. He rose and, grabbing his bathrobe, went down to the kitchen, leaving her in privacy again as he went in search of Max and breakfast for them.

*********

Later in the morning, Susan Kendall arrived, and was shocked and pleased to see that Jennifer was the patient.

“Jennifer!” she began.

Jonathan eased in, still unaware of what Jennifer remembered. “Jennifer, this is Susan Kendall, a doctor and also a good friend.”

Susan looked at him quickly, then back to Jennifer, assessing the situation. “Another case of amnesia?” she asked. “Well, I guess that’s almost to be expected. But I’m so happy to see you alive and well, Jennifer!” And she hugged her, while Jennifer threw a questioning look at Jonathan.

“I, ah, had a bout of amnesia myself several years ago. But I found you very quickly, and my memory returned within a few days.” Out of consideration for Susan, whose ex-husband had been mixed up in that situation and was now serving jail time for murder, he stopped there. 

“Susan, I just want to be sure that Jennifer is okay.”

Susan nodded and turned to her friend and patient. “Jennifer, how much do know about yourself? When did you begin to remember? I mean, you must remember something – here you are, after all.”

“Well, I really didn’t remember anything until after I arrived here. I just followed what few clues I had, searching, and ended up here yesterday. Before that, since waking up in the hospital a few months ago, all I had were flashes of things in dreams.” She stopped there, not willing to admit how much she really remembered. She avoided looking at her husband, certain he’d be able to read the truth in her eyes.

Susan frowned. “If your memories are indeed returning, it’s unusual that it’s taken so long. How long were you unconscious at the hospital?” She wondered what hospital; everyone knew about her disappearance from LA Methodist.

“They told me it was several weeks.”

“Well, if you’ve been awake all this time, I don’t see why…but we’ll just have to examine you.”

Jennifer looked from Jonathan to Susan. “I know one reason why,” she said, a frown coming to her face as she sank into a chair. “The doctor prescribed pills…a kind of tranquilizer, I think. They helped to suppress the Before….” She stopped, pressing her fingertips to her head.

“What?” Jonathan didn’t like the sound of this at all.

She raised her eyes to meet his, understanding the import of it, at last, even if he didn’t. Scott – or someone – must have meant to separate them, and had very nearly succeeded – no, they had succeeded, for five long months. 

“I was convinced – no, they – he – convinced me that I didn’t want to remember the past.” She said, feeling angrier now. “They said that it had been bad, brutal, filled with…they had x-rays…” but knowing the truth now about her life Before, she couldn’t go on. She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing. Her sense of betrayal from Scott, of her own betrayal of herself and her husband was threatening to overwhelm her again. “No, it can’t be…” she said softly.

“Who, Darling? Who said?” Jonathan was angry, too, and was also beginning to fit the pieces together….

But Susan interceded. “Jonathan, let’s put that aside for now. Jennifer, let’s go up to the bedroom so I can have a look at you.” 

*********

Jonathan watched as they left the room, then exchanged a look with Max. They went to sit at the bar. 

“I didn’t like the sound of that, Mr. H.”

“Neither did I. What did they tell her, Max? Somebody didn’t want her to remember – or to even try to remember, to find her past. I think you were right last night, Max. Somehow, somebody planned this. Maybe not the amnesia, itself. But something.”

It angered Max, as it did Mr. H, to think that someone had planted the idea of a harsh past, possibly of abuse, even, in Mrs. H’s head. It was ridiculous, but she wouldn’t have known that. “Perhaps it was the first step in controlling her, by making her not want to find out about her past.” 

“Yes, but who? And why? I will find out – and they’ll pay. Whoever they are.” 

*********

Once in the bedroom with the door shut, Susan said, “Okay, Jennifer, tell me about these pills.”

“They were blue, diamond-shaped. He gave them to me whenever I got upset, had a nightmare or a memory. Trioxcylene, I think he called them.”

“Yes, well, safe enough, I suppose – and it’d definitely do the trick helping you suppress any surfacing memories, although that’s not its intended use.”

“Can it cause black outs?” Jennifer asked.

“Perhaps, if mis-used. Have you had any?”

”Well, a few, I think – but they were a while ago. I didn’t make the connection at the time.”

Susan frowned at that, thinking it over, then simply said, “Well, I’ll run some blood tests, see how much of it is in your system. Let’s take a look at how you are now, then. Did you have any broken bones?” and she proceeded with her examination. 

When they were finished, Susan joined her sitting on the bed.

“Well, Jennifer, you’ve recovered quite well physically. Your ribs don’t ache? Your arm, too – no pain?” 

She shook her head, “No, nothing at all.”

“So we mainly have the amnesia to deal with, then. Is there anything more you can tell me? How much do you actually remember? As the drug works its way out of your system, you should remember more and more.”

“There are still gaps…” Jennifer paused, then moved away from that line of questioning. “What do you think, about the doctors telling me - ”

“I think they got your x-rays confused with someone else’s,” Susan said firmly. “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous, to imply that – well, Jennifer, it simply isn’t possible! But you’ve had x-rays taken before. I can get them, if you want.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Susan, really. I know – I remember – enough.”

“All right, then. I’ll put a rush on these other tests, and we’ll have at least some results by this afternoon.”

Jennifer smiled gratefully and accepted another hug from Susan.

“Don’t you worry,” Susan said. Then she paused; Jennifer was still obviously uneasy. “Jennifer, did anything else happen while you were gone?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You just seem…anxious, that’s all.”

Jennifer got up and paced the room. “I haven’t even told Jonathan my story, yet. I think it’ll be hard for him to hear. I – when I was ready to leave the hospital, I had nothing, no one. I didn’t even know myself. I befriended one of the doctors there, and he offered to help me, but - ” she quit talking, not wanting to reveal too much to a friend, intending to safeguard her relationship with Jonathan as much as possible.

“This doctor…is he the same one who prescribed the Trioxylene?”

Jennifer just looked at her, and Susan knew the answer. Jennifer said, almost as if to herself, “He – helped me. I thought – I felt protected, insulated, safe – but it was apparently all a lie! He actually was in it from the beginning. He must have been. I’ve lost almost six months of my life – our lives – just gone! What am I going to do?”

Susan reached up to stop Jennifer from pacing, urging her to sit back down. She was concerned about this talk of lies and betrayal – it seemed a bit paranoid – but then she didn’t really know what Jennifer had been through. But it was clear enough that her patient was very agitated.

“I’m going to have a counselor friend of mine come by to talk with you, Jennifer. I think you’ll need help sorting things out as your memories return.”

Jennifer was hesitant, but she took a deep breath and agreed. As they headed downstairs, she put on brave smile. “Thank you, Susan.”

Susan placed a call to her colleague, who agreed to stop by the house that evening. Susan smiled in satisfaction, saying, “She owes me one. Her name is Dr. Chloe Hamilton, and I’m sure you’ll like her. I’ll be back this afternoon with results from your blood test.”

“Thanks, Susan,” Jennifer said. 

Jonathan met them in the living room as Susan was preparing to leave. “Thanks for keeping this between us for now, Susan. Jennifer needs time before anything goes public.”

“Yes, Jonathan, I agree. Take care, Jennifer. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Jonathan walked her to the door. Susan said, “Physically, she seems fine, Jonathan. She’s recovered well. Her memories should return – just give it time, and give her your love and support. Anything else can wait.”

He nodded in agreement. “Thanks for everything, Susan,” he said, and kissed her cheek as she left.

*********

He returned to his wife, saying, “Would you like to go for a walk out back? Then we can have some lunch on the patio.” It was a typically beautiful California day, perfect for eating outside. They strolled together through the yard, eventually settling into chairs by the pool.

“How are you feeling, Darling?” he asked her.

“I’m okay, Jonathan,” she said simply. “It’s just all so, so strange.”

“I know. I’m glad just to have you back.”

She smiled. She knew he sensed her reserved attitude, and that he wished for more from her, but even though she remembered, she couldn’t give him what he wanted, not yet; she had to think things through. She was relieved that he wasn’t pressing her about any of it, at least. She had never kept her thoughts and feelings from him, and it felt strange to do so now. But she felt so confused that she couldn’t tell him what was wrong…she just, couldn’t. Not yet. She let out a sad sigh.

As if he could read her mind, Jonathan said, “Jennifer, sweetheart, I hope you know that you can tell me anything.” 

_‘Can I?’_ she thought, _‘can I tell you this?’_ She didn’t dare risk it. “Mmhm,” was all she said, her throat tightening at his words; she looked away then so he wouldn’t see the troubled look in her eyes, and held back the tears that sprang to her eyes.

There was an awkward silence. He could see that she was upset, and trying to hide it, so he changed the subject. 

They spent the afternoon together, and he told her stories, helped her to remember. She caught on, contributing bits and snatches here and there, and found herself falling in love with him all over again. But inside her heart was aching. She loved him so much, and didn’t want to hurt him. She was afraid she’d lose him, lose everything. She would never have thought that possible, she realized. Until now. Now that fear overshadowed everything.

*********

When Susan returned late in the afternoon, they all gathered in the living room.

“Well, we’re still waiting on a couple of test results, but I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. I checked the blood tests myself and they showed that the trioxcylene is almost entirely out of your system, so I’d expect your recall to grow stronger every day. All you need is time.”

“Thank you, Susan, for being so thorough and so quick,” Jonathan said.

“Don’t mention it. I’m just so glad to help, and that you’re home safe.”

Jennifer smiled and grasped her hand in thanks, and then Max saw Susan to the door. Jennifer was relieved, on one hand, but still unsettled, as she continued to struggle with colliding memories and growing suspicions. She grew quiet and introspective, and Jonathan and Max, while staying close by her, tried to respect her need for solitude that afternoon.


	16. Chapter 16

**Part Sixteen**

_What do you do when love comes along  
And offers your heart a chance to move on  
With no guarantees, no safety net?  
You trust what you feel, you take that first step_

_  
The weight of the world, the need to survive  
Has made you believe that you've got no right  
Then out of the blue you meet someone  
Who offers a place warm as the sun_

_  
Just close your eyes  
Reach for the moment before it slips by  
Here is your second chance  
Take it and fly  
_

_\- Trisha Yearwood, “Second Chance”_   
  


*********

Dr. Chloe Hamilton arrived that evening to talk with Jennifer, who had been pensive and reserved ever since Susan’s visit, despite the good news she’d brought. She was relieved that this person was not someone she’d known Before. _Funny that she still thought of it that way…._ She shook her head to clear the notion. 

Chloe was a caring person with a calling to her profession, and Jennifer felt at ease with her as they settled in the window seat in the bedroom to talk.

*********

Meanwhile, Jonathan and Max settled in the living room to play a game of gin; but conversation naturally turned to Mrs. H.

“I don’t like it, Max. There’s something she’s not telling me. A lot, actually.”

“She will, Mr. H. Give her some time! She just got back.” But Max, too, was worried.

“I know. I remember what it was like when I didn’t know who I was...and I can’t imagine going weeks, months, like that. I’m sure it’s been hard for her. I don’t like what I heard about the pills, though, or the idea of anyone trying to prevent her from remembering who she is.”

They had both been thinking of little else.

Jonathan went on, “First, take her away, then take advantage of the fact that she doesn’t remember, to keep us apart, perhaps? Someone must hate her, or me, an awful lot to - ”

“Or want her enough…”

Jonathan looked at him, surprised, but considering his words. “Well, okay. The doctor, possibly? It would be pretty unethical…but it seems too big a scheme to attempt for something like that…too much would ride on her not knowing who she is, and that couldn’t have been planned. My gut tells me that it’s revenge someone’s after. I just don’t know, Max.” 

Jonathan didn’t want to admit what he’d feared most since figuring out that Jennifer probably had long-term amnesia…that in all that time, she could have found someone else to make her happy. But he dispelled the thought…she _had_ found her way back, after all.

*********

Chloe Hamilton had heard Jennifer’s narrative of her time away, and what she knew about herself and her life with Jonathan. But she felt that Jennifer was still dancing around what was really bothering her.

“Jennifer, it sounds like things are falling back into place for you – you found your way back to your former life, where you’re needed and loved; you’re regaining your memories and your sense of self. You have a husband who adores you, and who waited for you, and searched for you all the time you were gone. So what is really bothering you?” she asked, cutting to the chase.

Jennifer had so far managed to maintain her composure, but now she began to lose it as her answer came flooding out, softly. “That I _didn’t_ search, for a long time. That I didn’t wait. That I didn’t know…” she broke off, then, unable to go on.

“Jennifer. You had no memory, no familiar people or places; you didn’t know anything about yourself to search _for_.” She paused, then went on, choosing her words carefully. “Does this have anything to do with your relationship with the doctor who befriended you and gave you a place to stay? You haven’t elaborated on that very much.” When she saw Jennifer’s reaction, she knew she’d found it.

With a haunted look in her eyes, Jennifer said, quietly, “I developed a, a relationship with that man. I thought he cared for me. He took care of me, gave me a place to live; he even said he loved me. I don’t know anymore – perhaps it really was true. And I relied on him for everything, and knowing nothing and no one else, I thought I loved him, too. I waited, but eventually we, ah, had sex. I won’t call it making love, not now that I know what I had with Jonathan.”

“Why do you use the past tense? By all accounts, Jonathan loves you very deeply. Do you think he won’t understand?”

“I don’t know. Our relationship has never been tested in this way before. Neither of us ever dreamed it would be. I truly don’t know what he’ll do, what he’ll think.” Chloe could tell this was a new thing for Jennifer.

“Do you still love Jonathan, now that you remember your life with him?”

“Yes, of course. With all of my heart.”

“Okay then. Let’s go back to the relationship and events in Canada. Did you know your real identity when you were first intimate with Scott?”

“No.”

“Were there subsequent times?”

“Only one other.” She frowned at this.

“And did you know then, who you were?”

“Not exactly, only…”

“Go on Jennifer. It’s okay.”

“Shortly after the first time, I began wanting to remember my past. I suspect the pills were helping to suppress it, so I quit taking them. The only images I’d had of the Before were of a man’s face, and a nightmare. I thought it was of a car accident…nothing like what the doctors in Vancouver had suggested – a climbing accident, previous injuries or abuse. Now I know that was all a lie – I remember, and Susan confirmed it. Anyway, I tried to remember more. And I began searching the house for my personal effects from the hospital. I didn’t know for sure that Scott had anything, but when I found a ring and a watch in a lockbox in his closet, I knew they were mine. I think…I think Scott came back while I was examining the lockbox. I never heard him come in. But I woke up with a knot on the back of my head, and the watch was gone.”

“And the ring?”

“Still on my finger – I tried it on and he missed it. So I hid it, and tried to act like nothing was amiss – that I’d had one of my black-out spells. I think the pills may have caused some previously. I realized then that Scott had hurt me because I wanted to know who I was…why would a person do that? I grew more curious about the past, but also afraid of him. I knew I had to get away. So I began to plan…I thought I could trace the ring, somehow – it has an inscription, and a jeweler’s mark. I knew the ring could be significant – that it could mean I was married in the Before.”

“So you waited?”

“Yes. I had to have the watch, for the money. I could tell it was valuable, and personal, but I had nothing else. So I bided my time, and searched for it.”

“And Scott?” Chloe prompted.

“I tried to regain his trust, make him think I loved him and didn’t want to remember the Before.”

“And did you love him?”

“I thought so, previously. But I began to feel otherwise. I felt if I could just find the man in my visions, if he was real and not a dream, that perhaps I’d find my past, and myself. I just didn’t know…” she broke off again, looking away.

“What, Jennifer?”

Looking at Chloe again, Jennifer said softly, “How important, how integral, how _vital_ he would be in my life. Jonathan is everything to me. And I have jeopardized it all.” 

Chloe reached out to touch Jennifer’s hand, saying, “I don’t know Jonathan, but somehow I’m not so sure about that.” She returned to the narrative. “But go on - what happened next?”

“I finally found the watch. So I left it, waited until Scott would be gone to the hospital for a while. The night before I left, he said he’d be staying in town for three days. That was Sunday; I left the next morning. He asked me to marry him that night, and I said yes, knowing I wouldn’t, and then…we were intimate again.”

“Were you afraid he’d figure it out – your plan to leave?”

Jennifer nodded. “By then I felt he had some ulterior motive in keeping me away from my real life. He didn’t seem to care if I regained my memory – seemed to be actively against it. I felt stifled, cut off from the world, and it had begun to chafe. The cabin was no longer a haven, safe and protected - it had begun to feel like a prison. I couldn’t risk any suspicion on his part. Things had to seem normal to him, so I could get away. I had to get away!”

“And so you did what you had to do, to keep up appearances, and to escape,” Chloe summed things up.

“Yes, but now, I feel I crossed a line that should never have been crossed. I…betrayed Jonathan. I can’t bear the memory of being with Scott. It’s just inconceivable to me now that this could have happened at all. I should have…I don’t know…I just can’t seem to get past it. And I don’t know how Jonathan will react. He may want to go find Scott. There have been times…well, he’s very protective of me, of us. He’s never had to doubt me before, or I him. I just don’t know how this will affect us, and I’m terrified of finding out. I don’t think I could bear it if -”

Chloe leaned forward, stopping her words. “Jennifer, you did what you had to do, in your estimation, to escape, to survive and take charge of your own life again. Did you know what the outcome would be, if and when you found your old life again?”

“No.”

“And would you do it again, if the circumstances were the same, if you had no knowledge of the risk?”

She looked uncertain, so Chloe answered for her. “Jennifer, I can tell that you are an intelligent and courageous woman. I think you’d do exactly as you did, if you had no memory of Jonathan and it was the only the way to be free. You shouldn’t second-guess yourself now that you have the knowledge of your real life. If Jonathan truly loves you, he will be able to see that, and accept it, and forgive. He may need time to deal with it – be sure you give him that time. If he can’t come to terms with it,” Jennifer paled at that, but Chloe went on, “If he can’t, I think somehow that you’ll make it. It’s who you are.”

Shaking her head, Jennifer said softly, “I know what you’re saying, but…it isn’t easy, now that I know who I am, and what I stand to lose. I can’t lose him – I can’t! He is my life. I am not complete without him. I don’t want any one else, any other life – no matter how courageous I can be.”

“Do you trust Jonathan?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you know how much he loves you?”

“Yes.” Jennifer knew where this was heading.

“Then trust that love. And tell him. I can figure out from talking with you that you’ve never held anything back from him before.”

“No – never. I know what you’re saying. I’m just so afraid that this is different. That it’s too much to overcome.”

“I know. But you didn’t knowingly betray him.”

“I knew what I was doing - ”

“You didn’t know who you were, or that it would make a difference later. Don’t be so hard on yourself now.”

She took Jennifer’s hand again to emphasize her point. “I have a lot of confidence that it will turn out okay – one way or another. Whatever you do, give him time to process. If his love for you is as strong as I think yours is for him, he’ll come to understand, and things will work out.”

Jennifer tried to feel as confident, and she had to admit she felt a little better. 

“Think things over,” Chloe said. She gave Jennifer her card and suggested that she make an appointment in a week or so to follow up. “You may call anytime.” She rose, and took Jennifer’s hand. “Take care, Jennifer. I’ll see myself out.”

As she’d hoped, she ran into Mr. Hart on her way out.

“Your wife is a beautiful person, Mr. Hart.”

“I know,” he said with a slight smile, a somewhat sad look in his eye.

She could see how much he loved Jennifer, but also understood the difficult road ahead for both of them.

“She’s also very vulnerable right now. I know you haven’t really heard her story yet. Don’t press her – it will come. And, Mr. Hart? No matter what she tells you, just listen, be open, and I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Jonathan nodded, and although he was concerned and perplexed at her words, he said nothing, and saw her to the door.

*********

Jonathan went upstairs to check on Jennifer. When he entered, she was sitting on the window seat, lost in thought, a troubled look on her face. She tried to mask it when he approached.

“Everything go okay?” he asked.

“Yes, fine, Jonathan – everything’s just fine.”

He didn’t really believe her, but didn’t press the point. 

“If you don’t mind, I think I’d like some time alone…everything is so, so overwhelming. I need some time to process it all.” That at least was clearly true.

He nodded, saying, “Take all the time you need. If I can help you in any way, just ask.”

She smiled and nodded.

“I’ll be up later,” he said, and as he had the night before, he leaned down and kissed her lightly. Then he left the room.

Jennifer turned her gaze out the window, still feeling his kiss on her lips. Soon she was lost in thought again, trying to come to terms with everything that had happened, before she’d have to take the ultimate step of telling him.

*********

Jonathan went down to the kitchen and put some water in the tea kettle. Max came in, and, observing that their nightly ritual was apparently still needed, got out the cups and the tea. Then they once again sat down at the table to go over things, as they had been doing for months.

“Something’s changed, Max. She’s more distant than she was yesterday.”

“Yeah, I noticed, Mr. H. She’s definitely moodier.”

“And sad. She’s quiet and avoids eye contact with me. But she seems eager to hear our stories, so she must want to remember. I don’t get it.”

“I know she’s been through a lot, Mr. H - we probably don’t know the half of it - but she’s home now, and safe with us. What coulda triggered this change in her? She seemed so hopeful when she got here.”

“She had the nightmare last night. It was pretty bad – worse than it had ever been before, I think. She wouldn’t talk to me about it, but it really seemed to rattle her.” Jonathan mentally reviewed what had happened the night before, knowing that it had affected her deeply.

They finished their tea, saying very little, Jonathan in particular growing quiet and thoughtful as he pondered the situation and everything that had happened in the past two days. When they’d finished their tea, they said good night.

*********

When Jonathan entered the room, Jennifer was already in bed, asleep. He got ready and got in, lying close to her, wishing that she would let him in, that she’d let him help with whatever was troubling her. 

Just as his heart ached for her, loving her and wanting to ease whatever pain she was in, his body longed for hers, as well. He had naturally missed the physical intimacy and connection they’d always shared; he’d been so glad to have her back that at first he hadn’t considered the implications of her amnesia on any return to intimacy between them. To have her be so near, and yet not, at the same time was difficult to say the least. But until she knew him again, and welcomed such attentions from him, he’d be content with whatever closeness she would allow. Occasionally, he thought he’d felt her looking at him, felt something in the air between them…but when he looked at her, she wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he had dismissed it as wishful thinking.

He didn’t know that Jennifer did in fact remember, and that she, too, longed for a physical reunion with him. Throughout the day, her gaze had fallen longingly on him when he wasn’t looking, and she’d found herself remembering, imagining, wanting…her desire for him was held in check only by the anguish she felt at the same time. She knew he wanted her, too - she could feel the tension in the air, feel his gaze on her though he tried to be discreet. She avoided his eyes, uncertain what truths he’d be able to read in her own. It caused her an almost physical pain that was unbearable; she didn’t know how much longer she could stand it. And so she’d gone to bed early, emotionally drained from holding back when it was not her wont to do so.

‘ _Jennifer, Darling, please come back to me,’_ Jonathan thought as he faced her and gently caressed her arm, before lying back on his pillow. In her sleep, untroubled by the concerns and heartache of the day, she turned toward him, resting her head on that favorite spot on his shoulder as had happened so often in the past, her hand coming to rest on his chest. He knew she was asleep, but he took some comfort in even that much closeness between them. He covered her hand with his and held it against his chest, hoping that his touch was comforting to her as well even as she slept. With his other arm he hugged her close, his head next to hers; he breathed in the scent of her hair, so familiar to him, and imagined that everything was okay between them again – that they were the way they’d been before. Finally he drifted to sleep, and dreamed of her.


	17. Chapter 17

**Part Seventeen**

_Step one you say we need to talk  
_ _He walks you say sit down it's just a talk  
_ _He smiles politely back at you  
_ _You stare politely right on through  
_ _Some sort of window to your right  
_ _As he goes left and you stay right  
_ _Between the lines of fear and blame  
_ _And you begin to wonder why you came_  
  
_\- The Fray, “How to Save a Life”_

*********

(Sunday, May 30)

Jennifer’s relative silence continued the next morning at breakfast. Jonathan was still concerned about the change in her mood and attitude, but didn’t press her, trying to honor Chloe Hamilton’s advice. He found it very difficult; he knew they were in uncharted territory right now, but he hoped she knew that she could trust him, tell him anything. So they talked about this and that over breakfast, he and Max bringing up more stories to reminisce about, and he did not pry. But he didn’t know how long he could last, seeing her so moody, so sad.

*********

Later that morning, Jennifer appeared on the stairs from the library. Jonathan met her at the bottom step, his hands on the railings, and looked deeply into her eyes, pleased to note that this time, she didn’t look away. “Darling, are you okay?” he asked, nothing but love and concern for her in his expression.

“I’m fine, just fine.” She glanced away, knowing that he didn’t believe it, then brought her eyes back to meet his, taking a deep breath. She’d decided to just plunge in and get through it as quickly as possible and face the consequences. It would be better than not knowing.

“Jonathan, we need to talk.”

He felt tiny alarm bells go off in his mind at her words. 

She took his hand and led him to the window seat at the back of the living room. The view overlooked the back yard; the day was sunny and growing warmer; more cheery than Jennifer felt it had a right to be. She sat down, one leg up on the seat, so she could face him as he joined her on the bench. It struck him as an almost defensive posture; it put a bit of space, distance, between them. It wasn’t like her…but he reminded himself, again, that nothing was normal right now.

“Jennifer, what is it?” Jonathan could see her hands trembling slightly, and he took them in his own, giving them a squeeze.

“I need to tell you where I’ve been – since the hospital.”

He nodded and waited for her to begin, and wondered why a part of him didn’t want to hear...it was irrational, he knew – there was nothing she could tell him that would change how he felt for her; he was sure of it.

“Well,” she started, “there isn’t that much to tell, really. I had nowhere to go; I didn’t know anyone. I was afraid of the past, after what they’d told me, so I wasn’t too eager to search, to remember.”

Jonathan thought he could understand that. He remembered what it had been like to have no identity, and to be told your past wasn’t a good one, well…. He nodded, trying to encourage her, saying softly, “Go on, Darling.”

She took another deep breath as if to steady herself, her hands still trembling in nervousness. She tried to still them, rubbing them together. He noticed…this too was unusual, for the Jennifer he knew, at least, to lose her composure this way.

“One of the doctors there befriended me. He, ah, offered me his cabin in the mountains, north of Vancouver.” She looked up to gauge his reaction and saw nothing yet in his expression to worry her. “So I stayed there. That’s where I’ve been, since I left the hospital, until a few days ago.”

Jonathan, despite his outwardly calm demeanor, could feel his heart begin to beat faster.

Gazing out the window, she went on. “It was so peaceful there. Restful. Beautiful. It was safe – it was a haven for me. I loved taking walks in the mountains, became familiar with them. And I had Pandora, too.”

“Pandora?” He wondered at the name, familiar with the story of Pandora’s box.

“A German shepherd pup. I named her Pandora.” The significance of that wasn’t lost on him.

“And this doctor? Did he visit often?” He could feel his heart constricting a little as he waited for the answer, but he kept his expression as neutral as possible, his best poker face in place.

“Well, he…lived there, actually, but it was so far from the hospital that he was often gone for days at a time. I had a lot of solitude, which helped when I ran away.”

“Why did you? Run away?” He latched onto this part of her story, not really wanting to dwell on the rest.

“I began to feel more trapped than protected. I grew to hate the pills that suppressed the Before. I felt more curious about my past. And then, last month, I found the lockbox.”

“With the watch, and your wedding ring,” he guessed.

She nodded and looked down at the ring on her finger, still awed at its beauty. But she returned to her story. “I think he came back – I didn’t hear him. I woke up later with a bump on the back of my head, and the watch was gone.”

“Just the watch? What about the ring?”

She smiled slightly for the first time, holding up her hand. “It was still on my finger. I’d tried it on, of course. It was a perfect fit,” she said softly, then, “he didn’t see it there.” This stroke of luck still amazed her. “Without it, I may have thought it was all a dream. But it wasn’t. And so I began to realize that Scott - the doctor - may have been trying to prevent me from remembering. He gave me the pills, convinced me I didn’t want to remember.” 

He could see her brow furrowing in anger now, and something else. Hurt? Regret? He didn’t know. And the name - Scott - he guessed then that it had to be Scott Bonsaint, the missing doctor. Where exactly had he gone on his leave of absence from the hospital? But he brought his attention back to what she was saying.

“So I began to plan. I had to regain his trust. I had to find the watch. And so I had to bide my time. You basically know the rest of my journey back here. I hiked out when he’d be gone for a few days, hitched to Vancouver. The jeweler gave me the name of the affiliate in Seattle for the maker of my ring, so I went there next. And here by bus. Overall, it took me the better part of this week.”

She truly was remarkable. He admired her courage and perseverance, the tenacity and daring in her escape. But he still had a lingering question, one he didn’t think he wanted the answer to.

But she saved him from asking. “There’s more.” He could see her growing more agitated, nervous; she wouldn’t meet his eyes, and her hands trembled again in his.

“Go on,” he whispered, and found that he was steeling himself against the answer.

“Scott took care of me, protected me, or so I thought, all those months, and he said he loved me. Even after beginning to figure out his, his interference, I still believed that he did, in his own fashion.” 

It was as he’d secretly feared, but never wanted to consider as a real possibility – she’d found someone to fill the void in her life, and it hadn’t been him. Doubt assailed him. He hadn’t found her in time…it was the reason she had become so distant. He’d been lucky to find her so easily, so quickly, when his own memory was gone. _But she_ had _found him again…she had come back._ His voice sounded rough as he asked, “And, ah, did you love him back?”

She met his gaze steadily now and tightened her grip on his hands, wanting him to understand, and admitted, “I thought so, when I had nothing else. But somehow it was…not enough. And when I quit taking the pills, my dreams, visions, flashes of memory – they became stronger, more real, and I knew I needed to find my past, good or bad. I had to know. I hoped – I believed - that it wouldn’t be bad, like they said. Because those visions, those dreams, they were of you. I saw your eyes, your smile, I heard your voice in those dreams. Somehow I knew you’d hold the key to who I am.” 

She hesitantly reached her hand toward his face and caressed his cheek lightly with her fingertips. He closed his eyes and turned his cheek into her touch, maintaining contact with her. When he felt her hand drop, he opened his eyes again, and he could see her love for him in her eyes, but there was also anguish. He wondered if his own face mirrored hers. He did not have a good feeling about this.

“Jennifer…”

“Shhh, wait. Let me finish, please, or I’ll never be able to.” Her voice caught, and her eyes filled with tears, but she held them back with an effort. Her voice shook as she went on in a whisper, but she again met his gaze. She did not want to miss his reaction; wanted him to read the pain and anguish in her eyes. She held his hands tightly now. _She just had to make him understand._

“We were, ah, intimate. Scott, and me. Twice.”

Jonathan could feel the blood draining from his face. He had to ask, softly, holding his anger in check, “Did he force you?”

“No,” she whispered, with a small shake of her head, and a tear escaped, slipping down her cheek. 

Jonathan felt his throat tightening, and he couldn’t respond. He hadn’t actually thought…had never allowed himself to imagine it could happen, even in all the time she was gone. He looked away.

For the first time ever, perhaps, Jennifer couldn’t read his face, his expression. _‘Please,’_ she thought, ‘ _Don’t let me lose him!’_ She went on in a rush, glad he seemed to be waiting for more, for an explanation. 

“I had no idea who I was, or that I was married, that you even existed, the first time. He was all I had, all I knew. Even so it left me feeling empty inside. I decided that it wouldn’t happen again. It was perhaps the beginning of my quest, my search for my past.”

“And so – the second time?” His voice was low, a gruff, almost harsh, whisper. He was trying to remain open, to hear her out, but his mind, and his heart, were reeling. He tried desperately to gain control and listen as she continued.

“The second time, I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to get him to trust me again, after the lockbox. I still didn’t know who I was. I didn’t – not until I got here! I was afraid, and I had to convince him to trust me again. I had to get away, and he’d become suspicious of me - hovering, alert, different, since the day I found the lockbox.” 

She swallowed, nervous, and looked away out the window briefly, before looking back at him. “I can almost forgive myself for the first time, but the second – I, I can’t. I did what I thought I had to at the time, but I crossed a line…and even if you were still just an idea to me, a hope, now that I know who I am, now that I have my memories back again, I know I have betrayed everything that is important to me. Everything I love and care about.” She fell silent, then, nothing more to say. 

His poker face was still intact, his eyes shuttered, expressionless; she couldn’t read him and it scared her. Then he looked away from her, and she felt herself growing cold with regret and self-accusation. Nothing that Chloe had said could help her feel better now.

Jonathan’s heart ached unbearably. He could tell that Jennifer was afraid she’d lose everything, lose him. He didn’t think he could live without her, but he also struggled to understand what he’d just heard. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t process it. And he didn’t really want to. He didn’t want to!! But he looked at her face, knowing she thought her whole world, so recently rediscovered, was about to crumble, and here she was, facing it bravely. He would try to do the same. 

He didn’t know what or how to feel. He needed some space, some distance, to be able to think. He needed to work through his emotions, but alone this time…it was a strange and foreign thing to realize. 

He raised his eyes to meet hers, and now she could see the pain this was causing him. She’d known it would, and she hated being the cause; it was something that she would never have thought possible.

“Jennifer, I, ah, need to think this through.” He rose abruptly.

She could only nod. “Okay, Jonathan. Okay. I understand.” 

He left her there, sitting on the window seat, and headed toward the kitchen. He turned at the door and, although he thought he knew, he asked, “What name did you use?”

“What?”

“A last name – did you use one?”

“Yes. Smith. Anonymous, like me. But it was better than Doe.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Part Eighteen**

_Would your love in all its finery  
_ _Tear at the darkness all around me  
_ _Until I can feel again  
_ _Until I can breathe again  
  
_ _To fall so deep into you  
_ _Lose myself completely  
_ _In your sweet embrace  
_ _All my pain’s erased  
  
_ _From your mouth it’s all that I wish  
_ _The mercy of your lips, just one kiss  
_ _Until I can feel again  
_ _Until I can breathe again_  
  
 _\- Sarah McLachlan, “Train Wreck”_

*********

Jonathan headed through the kitchen and out the back door. Max, sitting at the table, asked, “Everything all right, Mr. H?”

“Ah, not now, Max. Not now.” He left the house, and Max could tell something was up. He was pretty sure that he and Mrs. H had been talking, but couldn’t imagine what could have passed between them for Mr. H to be so distracted, so agitated. He reminded himself that these weren’t normal times. Whatever it was, he figured they would work it out. But he didn’t like it.

*********

Jennifer stayed where she was for a while, pulling her feet up onto the bench and resting her head against the wall. Tears flowed down her cheeks and she made no effort to wipe them away. She prayed that Max would not come in.

It was done. A strange sense of calm began to creep over her. She’d done it. She had told him, as she’d known she had to. She’d never kept anything from him before, and her feelings about what had happened were too great not to affect their relationship, had she not told him. It would have created a barrier, a wall, between them, and that would have been worse, much worse, and only she would have known why it was there. She didn’t think she could have lived with that. So now she would just have to wait and see what he would make of it all. 

She had to believe that he could forgive her. Jennifer Smith may have been content just to be free, but Jennifer Hart doubted she could move on and not have Jonathan in her life – at the center of it. She had to trust that telling him was the right thing to do, that he could find a way to understand. She had to trust that their love for each other really could overcome any obstacle. So for now, she’d give him the time he needed, would leave things in his hands…but she wouldn’t give up on their relationship without a fight. Her future, her life, and her – their - very happiness, depended on what he would do now, and she could only…wait.

*********

Jonathan went out the door and headed out onto the grounds, away from the picture window. Part of him wanted to run, but he checked that impulse. He needed to think, to concentrate, not run away. He put his hands in his pockets and walked slowly, lost in emotion and thought. His heart ached with love for his wife, with anguish for her suffering as well as his own sense of loss and pain over the last five months. All of this was mixed in with the confusion, hurt and even anger he felt about what she had just told him.

He knew he had to try to understand what she’d gone through, rationally, and find a way to come to terms with what had happened. He knew their marriage might depend on it. But he found that his heart wouldn’t be rational just now. What had happened – what she’d done – it simply didn’t fit into any frame of reference he had for his relationship with his _wife_. Maybe these things happened to other people, but not to them! It was unreal; it was surreal. It couldn’t really be happening…could it? 

Jonathan blamed himself in no small way, for letting her down, for not finding her; he’d always done so before, anytime they’d faced danger. He hadn’t been there this time. He hadn’t found her in time to prevent this, to protect her from Scott Bonsaint. To save her. Perhaps she thought Bonsaint hadn’t forced things between them, but she’d been vulnerable and alone, and he had taken advantage of the situation. Of her. Jonathan felt a great deal of anger at Bonsaint. It would have been very satisfying to go after him and make him pay, and it could have perhaps at least delayed the emotional impact on their relationship. And if Bonsaint had forced her, it would instantly absolve her of any blame in the matter. But he steered away from that kind of thinking; could he really blame her, in any case? Be so hurt, so angry with her that he couldn’t forgive her? Where would they end up if he took that path?

He continued walking, making his way throughout the property, and eventually sat on a bench under a tree in back of the house. He could see the picture window in the living room now; Jennifer was still there. He looked away for a time, feeling lost and confused, and when he looked back, she was gone.

*********

Max had an increasingly bad feeling about things. Mrs. H had gone upstairs, and he could see Mr. H outside, sitting on the bench… _what was going on?_ He jumped when the phone rang. It was Lt. Grey; after a brief conversation, he went out the back door.

Jonathan didn’t hear Max approaching. Seeing his dark, bleak expression, Max asked, “Mr. H, are you ok?”

“No, not really, Max.” He shook his head and didn’t elaborate.

“What’s up between you and Mrs. H?” Max wasn’t about to beat around the bush; this was too important.

But Jonathan didn’t answer his question. “What do you need, Max?”

Max frowned. He wasn’t happy about not getting an answer, and his concern grew. But he said, “Lt. Grey just phoned. He wants to see you down at the precinct. They’ve got something new on those two guys.” 

Jonathan looked up at that, glad for a distraction from his thoughts. There was still a plot to uncover, and he needed somewhere to focus his anger and heartache. “Okay. Stay here with her, Max.”

“Are you going to tell Lt. Grey that she’s back?”

“Yes, I suppose he needs to know. But I don’t want anyone else finding out until everything is over and done with. There’s no use tipping our hand.” He was walking toward the garage. 

“Mr. H!” Max began.

“Do you have the keys, Max?”

He handed them to him, about to ask if he was going to say anything to Mrs. H, but Jonathan was getting in the car, and it was apparent that he wasn’t. Max frowned again. Then he was driving away, leaving Max none the wiser.

*********

Jennifer was trying to relax in the chaise lounge in their bedroom, but she was too preoccupied to be very calm. Everything around her now brought back memories – wonderful memories, yes, but in her current frame of mind and uncertain situation, having her memories back was difficult to bear. The irony of it was acute. She closed her eyes and tried not to think, not to remember, but it was impossible, and that just made things worse. Her heart ached with a deep, heavy pain that made it difficult to keep the tears at bay. It was new territory - not knowing his mind, his heart, his intentions…and there was nothing she could do about it right now. She found herself listening for the sound of his footsteps on the stairs, coming to find her so they could talk. Instead, she heard the sound of a car going down the drive. She quickly looked out the window and her hopes sank. He was leaving.

*********

Jonathan tried to keep his thoughts on the mystery of who was responsible for this whole mess as he drove to the police precinct. It kept his mind off…other things. He needed to focus on this, now, and not dwell on what had happened to her – or what she’d done while she was away - but it was difficult. He dragged his thoughts back to the issue at hand as he entered Lt. Grey’s office.

“Herschel?”

“Jonathan, come in. I think we’ve got something,” he said as they sat down. “The two goons from the van had some very interesting connections.”

Jonathan just waited for him to go on, but Herschel noticed that something was changed, although he couldn’t identify what. “Jonathan, are you okay? You look preoccupied.”

Jonathan looked at him then, and made another effort to focus on the matter at hand. He found that he wasn’t ready to tell Herschel that Jennifer had returned. He needed to go forward with the case, and not give up the hunt. His hurt and anger needed an outlet, and this was the most productive way at hand. 

“Sorry, Herschel. I was, ah, thinking about – well, never mind. What have you got?”

“Well, turns out our two guys in the van had a very interesting connection. We nearly missed it, in fact. Came up in a routine inquiry into their habits. Anyway, it turns out that about ten days before your accident, they were seen near one of their usual hangouts, talking with another guy who definitely didn’t belong there. We’ve tentatively identified the man as a Mr. Rodney Chortle.”

Jonathan looked at him blankly. “Who is he?”

“If it’s who we think it is, for several years he’s been employed by one Angelo DeBartelli. His right-hand man.”

That got Jonathan’s full attention.

Herschel went on, “As you know, DeBartelli has largely kept his business dealings clean. Never found anything on him – clean as a whistle.”

“But he’s been out of sight for years.”

“Yes – supposedly driven to a reclusive life by the loss of his daughter, as you know. Now we haven’t found much on this Rodney Chortle, but you can bet that if DeBartelli wanted anything, shall we say, shady, carried out, he’d probably trust Chortle to see to it, and keep his own hands clean. But even Chortle would probably hire out for different jobs, rather than acting on his own.”

“And you’re saying that there is a connection to the men in the van that ran us off the road?”

“We have to check some things out, but yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”

Jonathan just sat there, thinking. So it was DeBartelli after all. He’d thought about laying his money on Nick Rhodes, although…while both had the means to carry out such a scheme, Rhodes would probably have been more obvious and simply had Jennifer killed. A mob boss, even one in jail, could put a contract on someone and the job would get done. Rhodes had been kept in pretty controlled isolation in prison for just that reason. No, the whole affair smacked of a revenge that was much more personal in nature. Seeing Jonathan as the cause, DeBartelli would want him to suffer a loss as great as his of his only daughter. And what better way would there be than to take his beloved wife away? 

“So what’s your next move, Herschel?”

“Well, we need to find Rodney and pick him up for questioning.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No. Presumably he’s at the DeBartelli estate, and there we have a problem. We don’t have anything really but suspicions connecting him or DeBartelli to the case, and no grounds for a search warrant of the estate. We have enough to question Chortle, if we can find him. If he’s holed up at the estate we could be in for a long wait.”

“Maybe you are, Herschel. You wait for Chortle. But I think it’s time I had a conversation with Mr. DeBartelli.”

Herschel understood. And while they may have a slim connection from Chortle to the goons, there was nothing yet directly connecting DeBartelli to any of it. He knew Jonathan would not wait…he’d want to go straight to the apparent source of everything. And Herschel meant to help him however he could.

“Jonathan, I think you’d better go with a wire. Perhaps you can get something incriminating. We’ve had someone watching the estate, and as far as we can tell, he’s in there – no one’s come or gone in some time.”

Jonathan nodded in agreement. He wanted to go right away; the estate was a long drive outside the city. He couldn’t wait, nor could he admit that he didn’t want to go home just yet. Normally Jennifer would have gone with him on such an outing - they had always been a team, and he preferred it that way. So he felt some guilt that he’d left without even talking with her first, but until he knew for sure what the old man’s involvement in her disappearance was, he thought it would be better not to let on that she was back. At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself…it was easier than admitting the struggle he was having, trying to grasp the reality of where and how she’d spent the past few months.

In any case, if he was responsible, then DeBartelli may already know that Jennifer was no longer in Canada, and if so, Jonathan wanted her safely hidden from him. A lot depended on how involved the doctor - her lover, he found himself thinking, with a pang of jealousy – was in the scheme. Jonathan felt hurt and anger welling up inside of him, but he forced it down again. He had something he had to do, now. He almost had the man responsible, and he wouldn’t rest until he’d found him and gotten the truth.

Herschel was watching Jonathan as he sat there. He said, “Jonathan, I think I’d better go with you. I’ll stay in the car and listen in on the wire.” He knew it was perhaps not by the book, and he’d definitely be out of his jurisdiction, but he’d feel better about it. There was a look in Jonathan’s eye that made him uneasy, and he wanted to prevent any trouble if he could.

“I can handle it, Herschel.”

“I know you can, Jonathan, but you don’t appear to be thinking clearly – you’re way too close to this. I mean, it’s about Jennifer, after all. You can’t be expected to be completely rational here. If it were anyone else I wouldn’t even have told them, let alone supported a confrontation before we have a chance to question Chortle.”

“Do what you need to do, Herschel, and so will I.”

Herschel took that as at least a tentative agreement, and went to make a few other arrangements of his own.

*********

Jennifer stood at the window, looking out at some clouds on the distant horizon, lost in thought. Try as she might, she couldn’t relax. Where had Jonathan gone? Should she go after him? Where would she look? She could try the Hart Industries apartment, but she saw the futility of going at all – he could have gone anywhere. He could simply be driving, for all she knew. And she didn’t want to be gone when he got home. No, it was better to wait, frustrating as that was. 

Her thoughts turned to the whole string of events since the night of the accident. They hadn’t really discussed it yet, but both Jonathan and Max had hinted at events greater than simply an accident and amnesia. She’d been taken away, and at a very risky, vulnerable time for her, when he couldn’t follow. She knew how that must have affected him, to be unable to go after her – he’d never failed to do so before, in all of their adventures, which were coming back to her in bits and pieces.

Finally Jennifer decided it was time to face Max; perhaps he would know where Jonathan had gone. She ran into him on the stairs; he was on his way up with a tray – his excuse for interrupting her.

Seeing the tray, she said, “Oh, thanks, Max, but I, I’m not hungry.”

“Mrs. H! You gotta eat something.”

She just looked at him, not knowing what to say, not wanting to turn down his kindness – she knew he was only taking care of her, as he always did. She smiled at him but then continued on down the stairs, saying, “I just can’t eat right now, Max.”

Following her, Max went on, “Look, Mrs. H, I don’t know what’s goin’ on between you and Mr. H…”

_‘Trust Max to have noticed already,’_ Jennifer thought, a bit dismayed…

“…and I’ve been tryin’ to leave you to yourself a while, but I thought you should know that Lt. Grey called earlier, and Mr. H went down to the precinct. Lt Grey has been very helpful with your case…”

She turned and looked at him again as he said this, feeling some hope. But why wouldn’t Jonathan have told her that himself? It was something, but not enough. He was still gone, without a word.

For a split second she considered telling Max, since she and Jonathan had always trusted him with everything, but decided against it. This was just too personal, between her and Jonathan, and she wanted it to stay that way. Maybe Max would never need to know. But she realized then that she could find out whatever Max could tell her about their search for the person responsible for this mess. Besides, it was something she could focus on while she waited for Jonathan to come home.

“Lt. Grey? What did he want?”

“I don’t know exactly. Something about the guys connected to the van that ran you off the road.” He looked at her more closely. When she met his gaze, he wondered…she seemed to know who Lt. Grey was, and in her eyes, now, he thought he saw a lady he recognized; he also saw pain and loss – more extremely there than before. What was going on between them? But suddenly he wasn’t so sure he really needed, or wanted, to know.

“What have you found out so far? Jonathan hasn’t said much about it yet.”

“He – we – wanted to focus on helping you to remember, Mrs. H.”

“I know.” She smiled at him again, grateful for all they’d done to make her feel at ease, at home, since she’d returned. “But now I need to know whatever you can tell me about who did this to us.”

“We’re not sure who, yet. But I’ll fill you in on what we do know,” he said and, as they sat down together in the living room, he proceeded to recount everything they had done, everything they had investigated and learned in the last five months.

She wanted to see the file. He hesitated, but they went to the library and he got it for her. She sat at the small writing table and opened the file. It had copies of her medical records from the ER that night, notes, police reports, photos…she blanched at the photos, shocked at the destruction caused by the accident. She imagined Jonathan’s reaction whenever he saw them, understanding how they must have affected him. It upset her to think of his injuries from that night, and that she hadn’t been there for him. But then with an effort she shifted into investigative reporter mode, and tried to distance herself from what she was seeing and reading.

Max watched the emotions playing across her face, and it was the clincher for him – it was Mrs. H, for real. She remembered; he was sure of it. There was a presence now in her bearing, her mannerisms, that were hers alone, and that he recognized.

Jennifer saw that they had steadily made small advances, only to run into one brick wall after another. She was amazed at how close they’d gotten, and she learned a few things she hadn’t known about her end, as well. Like the fact that Scott had a house in Vancouver. How much easier things would have been, to find out about herself, if she’d been there – but then, that hadn’t been part of their plan, had it? Hiding her away in a remote cabin made sure of no outside influence, no news, no friends, no contact…only lies, to keep her afraid of her past, and no one but him to rely on for everything. How easy it had been to control her, and for months she hadn’t even realized it. However things finally played out, she was determined that Scott would answer to her for his role in this plot against them.

Again, Max watched the play of emotions crossing her face. There was more to the story – she could fill in some gaps, he was sure. He also knew, somehow, that whatever problem she and Mr. H were having was somehow connected to those gaps.

“Mrs. H, I know something ain’t right here. Is there anything I can do?”

She smiled sadly at him. He always did manage to know everything that was going on. But she couldn’t share this with him. “Thanks, Max, but ah, not this time. Everything will be okay.” She looked away as she said this, and he could tell she was trying to convince herself, too.

She looked back at him, and when their eyes connected she could see that he recognized her, that he knew she remembered. But she just thanked him for going over everything with her, and he decided not to pry any further. Instead he took her hand, giving it a squeeze, and said confidently, “I’m sure it will be.”

She smiled up at him, but he could tell she wasn’t so confident, which only made him more concerned.

“Mrs. H, please try to eat something.”

“Okay, Max. I’ll try,” she said, squeezing his hand in return, all the acknowledgement they needed between them about how things were. She remained motionless at the table, staring down at the papers in the file, and he left her there, worried, but uncertain what else he could do.

*********

Jonathan rode out to the DeBartelli estate with Lt. Grey; somehow he felt better having Herschel along. On the drive out, Herschel kept his own counsel, letting Jonathan brood while hoping he’d come clean before the ride was over. He didn’t like being kept in the dark, and was worried about his friend.

They pulled up alongside the wall of the estate, keeping some distance from the gate, when Jonathan finally spoke.

“Thanks for coming, Herschel. I appreciate it.”

Herschel nodded, and waited to see if he’d go on. He did, almost as if he were talking to himself.

“Somebody has to be responsible, and it’s DeBartelli, I’m sure of it. She was taken away at great risk to her life, Herschel, and he will pay for that, for every minute we’ve been separated, everything that’s happened to her - ” Herschel thought he faltered a bit here, but he rushed on, and met Hershel’s look for the first time since they’d left the precinct. “- it was all orchestrated by that man, and I intend to prove it and see that he pays for whatever he’s done to her – to us.”

“Okay, Jonathan, I agree with you. There’s a whole string of criminal charges in this case, starting with the hit and run.”

A look crossed Jonathan’s face that he couldn’t interpret.

“Five months, Herschel, it’s been five months, and I want someone to pay! It’s not over until -” but he didn’t finish the thought as he looked back out the window.

Herschel knew that Jonathan could be deadly serious in matters concerning his wife, but there was something more here that he wasn’t saying. 

“Okay, Jonathan, there’s more. Let’s have it.”

Jonathan just looked at him blankly for a minute, not sure what to tell him, still not ready to talk about Jennifer. “Herschel, I can’t go into it right now. I need to get in there.” He opened the car door.

Well, Herschel decided that he’d have some time to consider things while waiting for Jonathan to get inside. As soon as he was away, he placed his call for back-up – being out of his own jurisdiction, he’d called in a favor with a buddy of his in the FBI. He was glad he had – he didn’t want this guy getting through any legal loopholes, and having the feds backing them up seemed like a good precaution. He’d be arriving there shortly. Herschel planned to be there, covering Jonathan’s back, and hopefully keeping him out of trouble…he looked as if he wanted to find some. 

*********

Jennifer’s thoughts continued to swirl around everything she’d learned from Max. She’d been taken away – a very long way - at a time when her survival from the accident could have been in some doubt. The thought chilled her. Who would gain from such an act? If it had been a simple kidnapping, there would have been a ransom, and her imprisonment would have been more obvious. Revenge for something? Again, who? And why? Revenge for what? 

She reviewed the list of possible suspects that they’d developed, and discounted several out of hand as too unlikely, for many of the same reasons that Jonathan had also dismissed them. Certainly a couple of them would have a strong grudge against either her or Jonathan, but even so, she considered them unlikely to be able to carry out such a convoluted scheme. She was confident that Nick Rhodes would be blunt in any attempts at revenge against her, and also that he was supervised very closely in prison. The others were easy to discount, although a couple of them pre-dated her life with Jonathan, such as this DeBartelli - she didn’t know who he was and couldn’t recall Jonathan ever mentioning him. 

She decided if it was revenge, it would have to be for something personal. After all, what could be more personal – to them, at least - than dividing them? Others had tried, but not in nearly as twisted a scheme as this appeared to be. It was no secret how close they were, how strong their marriage and their love for each other was. Certainly she saw how someone could think they’d be vulnerable to plots that managed to jeopardize that. It was difficult to accept that their love itself was vulnerable, yet here they were. Normally, it never would be, but nothing was normal these days.

She began to form a sketchy theory in her mind of possible angles, and of Scott’s role in the whole thing. She felt she was a pretty good judge of character…for all of her anger toward him for his role in keeping her essentially captive and preventing her recall, she still didn’t feel that he was truly behind it. He was more likely a tool in its execution. A crucial tool, she realized, since if she and Jonathan were to find each other again, they would potentially still be divided, as she feared they now were, by the very actions she had taken. Even if Scott had developed feelings for her, as part of some scheme or not - she had responded, she was still responsible. 

She frowned as she again came around to the conclusion that if indeed there had been some plot to destroy them or their marriage, she had participated in it in a most reprehensible way, even without her memory. Could they get past this? If Jonathan couldn’t face her…she didn’t know what she would do if they couldn’t resolve this in some way. And with every hour of his continued absence, she grew less and less certain of anything. 

In some part of her mind, Jennifer almost wished for her amnesia, her anonymity, to return, and spare her from the pain of knowing the hurt she was causing him. Perhaps she’d been right to fear remembering, not because of any pain or abuse from Before, but because of the pain she’d brought with her into the present. But she shook her head, angry with the thought – now that she remembered, she could never go back to being Jennifer Smith. She would listen to Chloe, and not second-guess herself now. She would face whatever came, whatever decision Jonathan made, knowing that she had been right to tell him, that she couldn’t have lived with a lie - even a lie of omission. She would see this through. She had to. Thinking back on the whole of her relationship with her husband, she held on to the fact that they’d always been open with each other, always worked through every issue, every disagreement, every problem, together. This was simply a bigger problem. She sighed, hoping that it would prove to be just that – a bigger problem, but one they could survive, together. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Part Nineteen**

_I hear the drizzle of the rain  
Like a memory it falls  
Soft and warm, continuing  
Tapping on my roof and walls.  
~  
My mind's distracted and diffused  
My thoughts are many miles away  
They lie with you when you're asleep  
And kiss you when you start your day.   
~_

_And so you see I have come to doubt  
All that I once held as true  
I stand alone without beliefs  
The only truth I know is you.  
~  
And as I watch the drops of rain  
Weave their weary paths and die  
I know that I am like the rain  
There but for the grace of you go I._

_\- Simon & Garfunkel, “Kathy’s Song”_

*********

The day was nearing an end. Jennifer had returned to the bedroom and was watching the worsening weather through the window, feeling it to be more appropriate to her mood than the cheery sunshine they’d had earlier. The clouds had reached Bel Air and rain was beginning to patter against the roof of the house. As each minute ticked by with no car coming up the drive, no sign of Jonathan’s return, Jennifer’s grasp on hope grew weaker, despite her resolve to the contrary.

She’d spent most of the day studying the case file, trying to wrap her mind around the facts, as well as going over everything that had happened to her in Canada. Part of her wanted never to return to Vancouver, but another part of her wanted, needed, a confrontation with Scott, so she could demand answers from him - an explanation of why he had participated in a plot to keep her from her life.

But she would _not_ be gone when Jonathan returned. She didn’t care how long it took. She would not leave him willingly, now, and cause him more pain. She had brought the truth into the open, where she knew it needed to be; she would not back away now. If and when she went to confront Scott, she wanted Jonathan by her side. She would hide nothing from him, and perhaps he’d come to trust her again, despite what had happened in the mountain cabin.

Jennifer sighed as these thoughts ran in circles in her mind, and she was unable to focus; all she could think about now was Jonathan, and how to salvage her relationship with him. She tried to be calm, knowing he needed this space from her, time to think, but the waiting grew increasingly difficult to bear.

*********

Dark clouds were beginning to roll in as Jonathan approached the front door of the mansion, moving as stealthily as he could, although he didn’t really care if he were caught. He’d like an element of surprise, but in any case, he’d see DeBartelli in person. He wasn’t exactly clear what he’d do when he got there, however.

When he reached it, he decided on the blunt approach. He pounded on the door, and kept pounding until a servant answered. He pushed past him into the house.

“Where is DeBartelli? I want to talk to him. Now.”

“You can’t just barge in here…” the servant’s voice trailed off under the glare of Jonathan’s gaze.

“It appears I just did.”

“Ah, Mr. Hart. It took you long enough,” a voice said from the top of the stairs. Jonathan looked up and recognized Angelo DeBartelli. He had a smug grin on his face.

“I want to know what you’ve done with my wife.”

“I? You’re the one who seems to have lost her, Mr. Hart. What have I to do with it?” His choice of words left Jonathan wondering just how much he knew.

“You are responsible for her disappearance. We both know that. And we both know why.” Somehow, he had to goad the man into a confession.

“Why, pray tell?” DeBartelli had reached the bottom of the steps and moved toward a room off of the foyer. Jonathan followed. DeBartelli was a changed man from the last time Jonathan had seen him. He wasn’t an elderly man, but he seemed to have shrunk in on himself, somehow. Grief and anger at his daughter’s fate, most likely, had changed him, as had his desire for revenge.

“You blame me for what happened to your daughter. But of course everything that happened was her own fault, her own doing. I didn’t sell secrets to the other side. She did that – committed treason - all by herself.”

He could see the rage on DeBartelli’s face in the low light.

“She never betrayed her country! She was too smart for that and it couldn’t be proved! She was a good girl! But YOU set her up – you exposed her! You are responsible for her going to prison, where she died a cruel, painful death. She was a brilliant scientist – she had her whole life ahead of her. But you ruined it all, you ruined _her_! I had to make you pay! I’ve planned and plotted for years – I watched you, studied you, tried to figure out what made you tick, what was most important to you. At first, I thought to take your precious Hart Industries – I tried several times – I thought it was important to you. But I admit I was never able to best you in that arena. And ultimately, it wasn’t so important, was it? It was just business. Because then you met her – didn’t you? The love of your life.” He made it a sneer.

Jonathan just looked, and listened – the crazy old man was on a tirade, now, and it couldn’t be going any better. He just hoped Herschel could hear.

“Jennifer Edwards. Jennifer Hart. I’ve watched you two since the beginning. So in love. Such a perfect life. It didn’t take long to realize what she was to you – how much you needed her, depended on her, and it was much the same for her, wasn’t it? The perfect couple. How I hated you both!! And after Lizzie died that horrible death in prison, I resented you all the more for your happy life. One that she never got to experience. Well, I had to get my revenge. And it became so clear how to do it! I would take her away from you, as you took my little girl away from me.”

“So you did plan to kidnap her that night? Or did you just want to kill us?”

“Well, actually I was still thinking small at that point. A little bit of terrorizing would have suited me just fine. I didn’t want you to die, no – I wanted you to suffer, as I had, as I still do. Every day I think of my little Lizzie – and then I think of you, and your picture-perfect life, your lovely wife that you held so dear. I wanted you to fear for her life, but I didn’t want to take it, just yet. The goons I hired for that job almost went too far. But then the brilliant idea struck and I just had to take advantage of it. The opportunity was too perfect to pass up. My helicopter was just the thing – I could hardly believe my luck when I intercepted that transfer request. And then,” he was getting positively gleeful in the retelling, “then, she was so bad off that just being unconscious all that time kept her from you. It was as much a stroke of luck for me as your own injuries, keeping you from looking. Then the amnesia – I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome than that. It wasn’t too difficult to find a doctor with a secret or two in his past that he couldn’t afford to have exposed. He was easily manipulated.”

“You mean Dr. Bonsaint?”

“You know him? Oh, yes – you did get a lucky break, didn’t you? I could hardly believe it when you went traipsing off to Vancouver – you were very close, you know! But, alas, you were still too slow, and you missed her there, too, didn’t you? I’ve hidden her away very well, and I doubt anyone can find her now. In fact, I doubt she even wants to be found.”

“Where is she?” Jonathan demanded, keeping up the pretense…DeBartelli seemed unaware that he had lost his captive.

But DeBartelli went on, “I really am impressed that you were able to trace anything to me at all. I wonder where I slipped. But still, it’s no matter now. You’ll never find her. And even if you were to find her, through some miracle, I daresay you’d not want her anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Jonathan looked at him with a dangerous glint in his eye. He knew what the man was referring to. But of course the man couldn’t be right, could he? Was there anything that would make him not want her anymore? He never would have thought it possible…but he didn’t have time to think about that right now. That was between him and Jennifer – right now he was dealing with this excrescence of a man who’d played so cruelly with their lives. 

DeBartelli saw the moment of doubt in his eyes and sought to make it worse. “You want to know where she’s been? I’ll tell you – living with another man. That’s where! She doesn’t care about you anymore – hell, she doesn’t even know you exist. Dr. Bonsaint has been seeing to that, on many levels. And don’t think you can get to him before I do – they’ve been hidden away well enough, but I can make them disappear altogether, somewhere you’d never think to look. And you can live out the rest of your life knowing I took her from you, and gave her to someone else. I never knew how much fun playing with other people’s lives could be – I thank you for the entertainment. But now, I need my rest, so you can go.” He said it dismissively.

But Jonathan had had enough, and so had Lt. Grey, who’d been listening in from the car and recording the transmission until his FBI buddy had arrived. The conversation had been heating up, and he could tell that Jonathan was, as well. He left the car, rushing toward the mansion. He couldn’t believe what he’d heard, and paused at the sudden insight that, perhaps, Jonathan had somehow known or suspected something…it could explain why he had been acting so strangely. But how could it be? He dismissed the notion. In any case, they hadn’t found Jennifer yet. There couldn’t be anything to this crazy old man’s story….

He knocked, announcing himself; when he heard sounds of a struggle, he entered in time to see Jonathan landing a punch on DeBartelli’s jaw. He grabbed Jonathan and DeBartelli fell to the floor, screaming that they’d never pin anything on him.

“Jonathan! This isn’t helping!”

“Oh, isn’t it?” Jonathan was clearly furious, and not in control of himself. He struggled to get at DeBartelli again, but Herschel held fast and got him to a chair. The fight went out of him as he sat down, and he buried his head in his hands. DeBartelli’s jibes had hit too close to home, and he was rattled, uncertain. He hadn’t dealt with his feelings about what Jennifer had confessed to him when the call from the police had come. In some ways he had been thankful for the reprieve; rather than thinking about it, he could run off to deal with something else for awhile. But he knew he couldn’t continue doing that. And Jennifer - suddenly he thought about what she must be going through…how she could be thinking that he’d left her. It hadn’t been fair to her to leave without a word of explanation, and again he regretted that he had done so. His thoughts were swirling around in his head like a vortex…he knew he had to slow down. He had to think, to clear his head. But as the adrenalin rush from confronting DeBartelli wore off, he was too exhausted to think clearly about anything.

*********

It seemed like hours later when things finally died down and the house was quiet, with DeBartelli and Chortle, also found on the estate, in custody. Herschel found Jonathan still sitting in the same chair, dully answering some questions – and avoiding others - from the FBI. Lt. Grey chased them off, promising that he’d be available for more questions later. 

“Jonathan, let’s go. Let’s get you home – it’s been a very long day. We can finish up down at the precinct tomorrow.” Their eyes met and Herschel saw doubt in Jonathan’s. “Jonathan, you don’t believe that malarkey he was feeding you, do you?” 

Jonathan didn’t answer. It was too personal, between him and Jennifer, and he couldn’t speak of it to anyone else. Especially as a lot of it had been true. 

Herschel tried again, saying, “C’mon, Jonathan, that was total bullshit.” He stopped when he saw the haunted look in Jonathan’s eyes. 

“Herschel, there’s something you should know…” he began.

“Good. I was wondering when you were gonna let me know what’s been on your mind.” He grinned to take the edge off his comment, glad for an apparent change of topic.

“Jennifer’s back. She showed up Friday, at the house, while I was in Vancouver.”

Herschel’s jaw had dropped while Jonathan was talking.

“Why didn’t you say something?! That’s -” he stopped at Jonathan’s expression…if it had been anyone else, he would’ve sworn that he wasn’t happy about – but no, that couldn’t be.

“When I heard your news, and the link to DeBartelli, I _had_ to come out here – I couldn’t let you stop me. Jennifer has – had, I should say – amnesia. All this time, she hasn’t known who she was – and she still didn’t, when she showed up two days ago. Like we guessed, she was taken to that Vancouver hospital, by helicopter, and spent several weeks there, recovering, except for the amnesia.”

Herschel could only stare at him as he went on. With Jennifer back and safe, he would’ve thought that Jonathan would be content to allow the police to do what they had to do, officially. But here he was, off on a stake-out, a mission, rather than at home with his wife whom, Herschel knew, he loved beyond reason and hadn’t seen in almost six months!

“Jonathan, man, why are you out here?”

Jonathan just looked at him. Herschel saw a man going through some great internal struggle, and he began to suspect, as inconceivable as it seemed, that perhaps some of what DeBartelli had been raving about could actually be true. It would explain much about his friend’s unusual attitude and behavior.

“Jonathan, I don’t know that I believe…I mean….” He tried again. “Look, whatever is going on now, that’s between you and Jennifer. But she found her way home, didn’t she? She sought you out, not even knowing who you were, right? Well, that’s something, in my book.” He was uncertain how far he could go with this, but decided just to plunge ahead. 

“I’ve never seen a bond like the one you share with Jennifer. I envy it. Don’t throw it all away on the words of a crazed psycho who probably never understood love anyway.” He paused. “Look, whatever’s going on, you need to go home and face it. Deal with it. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t, you know.” 

Now he was just rambling, uncomfortable in this role, and he was relieved when Jonathan looked up at his last words.

_You’ll never forgive yourself…._

Jonathan rose from the chair, saying “You’re right, Herschel. We’ve been out here too long. I need to get home.”

“Well, come on, then. It’s late, and we’re finished here.”

*********

Jonathan was silent on the drive back to the city, and Herschel left him to his thoughts. He respected and liked Jonathan and Jennifer too much to pry. He’d need to get statements from them – but it would wait until morning. He’d deal with the FBI in the meantime, and stall them.

Jonathan took a deep breath, gazing out the window into the darkness, watching as the rain finally caught up with them and it came down harder and faster. Closing his eyes, he just listened to the rain, resting his head on the back of the car seat. He thought again about how lost he’d felt when he had amnesia, all those years ago. He began to ask himself the hard questions, and he found that he _couldn’t_ bring himself to blame her, given the circumstances. His anger – a murderous anger, perhaps - was directed at Scott. But he found that he felt no anger toward Jennifer...she’d been the true victim here. 

He realized then, strangely, unexpectedly, that he didn’t actually feel betrayed. ‘ _You’ll never be able to forgive yourself…’_ Herschel had said. Jennifer had said that, too - that she couldn’t forgive herself, now that she’d remembered who she was, and her love for him. She remembered – the full realization of what her words meant finally hit him. With no memory of her own, without knowing anything about him, she’d felt the connection between them, even across hundreds of miles. Without understanding it, she had reached for it, for him - she had sought him out, she had found him. And now she remembered; she loved him, and she had stayed. 

At last it struck him that in the mountains of Canada, she hadn’t been his wife. Not really. She had been Jennifer Smith. His wife would never sleep with another man. Never. He _knew_ that, to the very depths of his heart and soul. There was no one else for either of them; there never could be. He would never doubt that, or they really would unravel. And so it was a strange paradox to be faced with. He didn’t know Jennifer Smith. But he knew, loved and trusted Jennifer Hart. And somehow he knew then that they would get through this. 

He took a deep breath, feeling stronger and more clear-headed as he continued to process everything. She’d said she remembered and knew who she was now. And he could tell, looking back over the past two days, that there was a difference; at some point, something had changed in her - she had become more herself. Then he got it – it had been the dream, the nightmare, which had been the catalyst. 

It all began to make sense to him – Jennifer Smith wouldn’t have felt the guilt that Jennifer Hart had demonstrated. Jennifer Smith had only been trying to survive, to be free to determine the path of her own life. _His_ Jennifer would look back on that path with regret, and not forgive herself for actions taken, even when the real-life consequences were unknown, and therefore, negligible. She would hold herself accountable, even so. As he sat there, he grew more certain of how he felt about it all, and confident about what he needed to do. 

“Herschel, can’t you go any faster?” He was growing anxious now to get home.

“The roads are slick, Jonathan, but I’ll see what I can do.” He turned on the car’s lights and pressed a bit harder on the gas, going as fast as he dared, all the while feeling relief that Jonathan appeared to be more himself.

Rather than taking him back to his car at the precinct, Herschel simply drove him home. As he pulled up at the gate of 3100 Willow Pond Drive, Jonathan said, “”Just let me out here, Herschel. I think I’ll walk up.”

“Okay…are you sure, Jonathan? Are you all right?”

“Yes, Herschel, I am.”

Herschel looked him in the eye, and he didn’t look away. He could tell that Jonathan must have reached some kind of peace again; the doubt and uncertainty that he’d sensed earlier were gone, and he seemed more his usual, confident self. He was relieved, and nodded as they shook hands, then handed him the umbrella he kept stashed in car.

“Good. I’ll have to see both you and Jennifer down at the precinct in the morning, Jonathan. I’ll hold the feds off until then.” 

“Okay – thanks, Herschel. For everything.”

With that Jonathan entered the code for the gate into the box and slipped through, waiting for it to close again as Herschel drove off. Then he began to walk slowly up the drive, noticing and enjoying the cool night air, the fresh scent of the lessening rain, all the while considering what he would say when he saw Jennifer. It was late – it had been a long day. He picked up his pace, anxious now to ease her mind.


	20. Chapter 20

**Part Twenty**

_You've got a way with words  
You get me smiling even when it hurts   
There's no way to measure what your love is worth   
I can't believe the way you get through to me   
  
Oh, how I adore you   
Like no one before you   
I love you just the way you are   
  
It's in the way you want me   
It's in the way you hold me   
The way you show me just what love's made of   
It's in the way we make love   
  
It's just the way you are_

_\- Shania Twain, “You’ve Got a Way”_

*********

When Jonathan entered the house, he found it quiet. He re-set the alarm and set the umbrella out to dry, shrugging out of his wet jacket. The living room and kitchen were empty, Max and Jennifer presumably gone to bed. He knew Max was probably going nuts with worry and questions, but was grateful that he wasn’t around at the moment. He noted the now-cold tea and a note about food in the fridge, but bypassed that as he made his way through the house to find Jennifer.

She wasn’t in the bedroom, so he went through to the bathroom, stopping in the doorway. He found her there, leaning over the sink, washing her face. She braced herself against the sink, and he could see the physical manifestation of exhaustion and sadness in her body; he didn’t like the thought that he had caused it, even in part. He stood there watching her, quietly; he had always loved simply watching her, every chance he could – he had missed that particular privilege. How he loved everything about her! There was simply no escaping that fact. As had happened so often before when he watched her evening routine, he found that he wanted her, needed her, with a deeper longing now than ever, borne of months of separation and worry. For once, though, he knew he had to hold back, having promised her control of any return to intimacy.

When she had dried her face and lowered the towel, their eyes met in the mirror. A look of relief mixed with the sadness in her face, and he again regretted that he’d left her with no indication of his whereabouts, or what he was thinking and feeling. 

While his poker face seemed to be at least partially intact, Jennifer saw regret and pain in his expression; she thought she could see love, as well, in his eyes. He approached her and placed his hands on her upper arms, caressing them through the silk of her robe, still holding her gaze in the mirror.

At his gentle touch, Jennifer closed her eyes and leaned back slightly to rest against him, while wondering if she should take the liberty to do so. But he held her arms more tightly, not letting her go, and she felt a moment of intense relief, as if some initial hurdle had been crossed. Jonathan could still see the sadness in her face, her closed eyes. Sadness between them wasn’t something they experienced often, and it pained him to see it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I shouldn’t have left without telling you.”

She nodded, accepting his apology silently, knowing it to be a much lesser offense than her own.

She opened her eyes, again meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Jonathan, can you ever - ” 

But before she could finish, he turned her to face him, raised a finger to touch her lips, and said softly, “Shhh. There is nothing to forgive.”

“But…” He couldn’t take the disbelieving look in her eyes.

“Jennifer. There is nothing to forgive. You’re my wife – I _know_ you. You are Jennifer Edwards Hart. And I know that Jennifer Hart would never betray me with another man. Never.”

Her anguished look, one that told him she hadn’t relinquished any guilt at all, made him continue quickly.

“Jennifer Smith has nothing to apologize for, either. She was taken in, taken advantage of, by a lying son of a bitch. Then she did what she had to do to survive, to escape, to win back her freedom and control of her own life. I can understand that. She had your spirit inside her, but she _wasn’t you_.” He paused, looking deeply into her eyes to be sure she was really hearing him, before going on.

“The way I see it, Jennifer Hart didn’t exist for a while. So she did not betray me – she couldn’t. Not ever. I know that. But only she - you - would feel such pain and guilt over something that happened in the, the In-Between. I _know_ , that had it been Jennifer Hart in that in-between time, things would have gone very differently.” 

He was right, and she was relieved to hear him say it, but she still felt uncertain. He knew it might take her a while to forgive herself. He gathered her into his arms. 

“Darling, perhaps you think I’m splitting hairs, trying to make things all better. Making excuses. But I’m not. I realized that I did not feel betrayed; so, there is nothing to forgive. Truly. My trust and love for you haven’t changed, and we will overcome this. Together – okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered, and began letting go of her guilt and anguish, and her fear of losing him. She surrendered more completely into his embrace, needing to be closer to him. 

It felt so good to have her in his arms, to have reached some initial level of peace again. He felt his body responding to hers, his need for her increasing; reluctantly he stepped back, not wanting to pressure her, but he continued to meet her gaze.

Jennifer, too, felt herself responding to him, as she always had, and for a moment was confused when he drew back. But she saw the love again in his eyes, and recognized what he was doing; she loved and appreciated him for it, but it wasn’t what she wanted. She knew an embrace wasn’t enough to fill the void she’d plunged into when her memory returned and realization and regret sank in. She needed more, to be sure they were going to be alright. 

So she threw herself back into his arms, winding her own around his neck, and whispered in his ear.

“Jonathan?”

“Hmmm?” he said, holding her close, and reveling in the simple fact that he could.

“Make love to me, please? I – I need you so.” She wanted to give control back to him, now; she was his, and his alone, and she needed him to take her back, to possess her as she had never allowed anyone but him to do.

He tightened his embrace for a moment, pleased yet also somehow overwhelmed by her words. He drew back enough to look into her eyes. Seeing the entreaty in her gaze, the sadness still etching her features, he knew that she was asking for a more profound kind of reassurance than mere words. She needed a sign of forgiveness from him, despite his claim that there was no need, so she could forgive herself. He understood her unspoken plea, and that they both needed a physical reunion to heal, to renew themselves and their love and their commitment to each other. He was determined to erase the sadness, doubt and guilt from her eyes forever.

“Jennifer!” he said softly, his voice almost breaking as he held her gently yet tightly against him, still gazing into her eyes. The last remnants of his poker face fell away and at last she saw the longing and desire in his eyes, heard it in his voice. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart ached with her own longing for him.

He leaned toward her and kissed her lips, softly at first, then soundly, urgently, all his former reserve ended, and she went weak in the knees. His touch sent waves of sensation throughout her body, making her feel dizzy. He sensed it and his arms caught her, held her, as she responded with equal passion, pressing her body more firmly against his. Their every nerve tingled with mutual desire.

Breaking the kiss, he hugged her tightly, joy suffusing him; he felt her lips smile against his neck as she planted light kisses next to his ear. He picked her up, swinging her around as he headed for the bedroom, pausing along the way to kiss her again. When they got there, he set her down again next to the bed, and she lowered her arms to his waist, her hands moving to caress his back. He reached up to caress her face and hair as he looked into her eyes; with one hand he reached down to untie the belt of her robe. His arms went inside it and around her waist, pulling her more strongly against him, as he ran his hands over the ivory silk of her gown. It was one of his favorites, the bodice and back edged with lace, open to the small of her back, thin spaghetti straps criss-crossing her back to hold the delicate garment together. As he caressed her back lightly with his fingers, she shrugged the robe off her shoulders and let it slip to the floor.

He stood back for a moment, just taking in the sight of her, marveling anew at her loveliness. He laid her down on their bed, kneeling above her to look into her eyes as he began unbuttoning his shirt. Then he stood and finished undressing as she watched, unable to move, her head still spinning with the sensation of his kiss, his touch. 

She marveled in turn at the beauty she saw in his body, despite noting that he looked leaner, perhaps less robust, and wondered vaguely how his health had been during her absence. 

He knelt on the bed again, leaning over her, and let his fingers caress her face tenderly, lovingly. He kissed her cheek, then brushed his lips across it to her neck, kissing that oh-so-sensitive spot he knew well. Her eyes closed as she arched her neck to meet his kiss. He traced the delicate line of her collarbone, arriving at the graceful swell of her breasts. His hands roamed over her body – her sides, her belly, her legs. Then his lips followed the path of his hands, taking a tour of her body that he remembered and loved so well, culminating back at her mouth, in a kiss that nearly sent her over the edge. 

Jennifer smiled, nerves tingling everywhere his hands and lips caressed her, enjoying the sensation of his touch through the silk, and then on her bare skin as well as he moved the gown out of his way. As he’d made his journey over her body, she played with his hair and explored his back, his shoulders, with her fingertips, enjoying the sensations of strength in his muscular arms as he held himself above her, of his lips and breath tickling her skin. 

His attentions had left her momentarily dazed and breathless, but now she reached up to caress his face, kissing him softly, tentatively. As she looked into his blue eyes, feeling she could live forever in their depths, she wrapped her arms around him and drew his body down to hers.

“Jennifer!” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Jennifer! I almost - ” his voice caught, and she spoke at the same time. 

“Jonathan, I love you so much – only you!” she said, tears again brimming in her eyes, as they were in his. Their lips met again, and this time the electricity of his touch, of his body stirring against hers, sent a shock through her that left her reeling. She had remembered being with him, of course…but this was so much more intense than a memory, and so remarkably different than what had happened with Scott. She felt a sob deep within her at the thought of it. 

Jonathan felt her body tense for a moment, caught the fleeting, anguished look in her eyes, and whispered, “Shhh, Darling, those are her memories, not yours…look at me, my love - I’ll erase them from your mind.”

She nodded, her eyes locked on his, and, taking a deep breath, she let it go, awed and reassured by this unconditional love and acceptance from him, this miracle that she had not lost him, after all. She clung to him, focusing again on the sensations that only Jonathan, her soul-mate, could arouse in her. All other thoughts were banished, and she could think of nothing but him. 

So she returned his kisses ardently, feeling the charged air around them as her body responded to his, and their passion and need to end months of separation and heartache overtook them. Their lovemaking was intense, hurried, borne of mutual need. The emotional release as well as the physical one was overwhelming and they found it difficult to control. Their bodies still entwined, they held each other, wiped tears away, whispered each other’s names again and again. Seeing that Jennifer was still overwhelmed, Jonathan held her, comforted her, while barely keeping his own emotions under control, and began to grow alarmed when she didn’t seem able to stop the tears.

“Jennifer, Darling, are you okay?” He gently stroked her hair, then held her chin, trying to make eye contact, to interrupt the flow of tears, and said again, “Jennifer!”

“Yes, Jonathan!” she got out, gasping, “I’m okay, I’m okay…I’m just so happy!” It seemed so ridiculous that she started to laugh through her tears. He smiled, and held her so tight she thought she wouldn’t be able to breathe, but also that she couldn’t get close enough to him. Then she managed to take a deep breath and settled down, smiling, tears still shining in her eyes, and before it could overcome her again, he kissed her and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

Her tears stopped and her breathing slowed, and after a while a serious look came to her face, and she whispered, “Jonathan, I’m so sorry. I was afraid to tell you. And I was afraid not to – it would have affected us, created a wall between us, and I wouldn’t have been able to bear that. I was afraid I’d lose you, either way.”

He paused, looking deeply into her eyes, and said, “Darling, you were right to tell me. I know it wasn’t easy for you - it was difficult for me, as well. But I know we’ll be stronger for it. I never want there to be secrets, or walls, between us. And you will _never_ lose me. I love you far too much to ever let you go.”

For the first time since her return, he could see that her eyes were clear of pain and guilt, and the blank look of someone talking to a stranger. Instead, they were filled only with the love that she, his wife, felt for him. He’d seen the look a million times before, and realized how desperately he’d missed it. 

Jennifer saw his love for her in his face, and heard it in his words, his voice, and could have wept again with joy. “Jonathan, I love you more than anything – _anything_ \- in this world. No matter what happens, I know I always will,” she said softly. 

“I don’t think I could live without you ever again,” he whispered back.

“You’ll never have to, I promise,” she replied.

Jennifer saw the emotions flickering across his face and knew what he was thinking. She would reassure him, now, that she really was back, truly, to stay! So she took the initiative, running her fingers down his chest and over his body, and, raising her eyes to meet his with a look of pure love and desire for him alone, she kissed him with renewed passion. He responded wholeheartedly, and as they made love again, it was less desperate, less needy…it was more secure, more comforting, more like home. Jennifer felt even more fulfilled, more in love with and loved by her husband in return than she remembered from before the In-Between time, or than she’d dared hope for just hours before. She felt that her heart would burst from it. She hugged him to her fiercely.

Jonathan’s heart also swelled with the realization of what he’d gotten back. Although she’d been back for two days, she had not really been herself in that time, making it a bittersweet reunion. His loss had been so great that her return had seemed almost unreal until this night; now, she was truly here – his Jennifer, restored to him, heart, body, and soul. He felt like he could breathe again after a long time under water, and the air was pure and sweet and filled with her scent. He nuzzled her neck, took in the smell of her hair. He could breathe again, and his chest was no longer tight with anxiety and loss. How he loved her! She completed him and made him whole, as he did her; they were both overwhelmed with the intensity of it, so much greater after their months apart. 

So, their love renewed, their relationship beginning to heal, they held each other, neither wanting to let go, and fell into an exhausted, sated, easy sleep in each other’s arms, the first truly peaceful sleep either had had in a very long time.


	21. Chapter 21

**Part Twenty-one**

_Heart to heart  
Our souls intertwine  
Make love and float away with me  
Twins of flame  
A love so divine  
I want to spend my life around you  
Now, now I have the strength  
Now I have the hope  
You’ll give me all I need_

_  
To make me smile again…  
And I believe it will work out right  
Oh you make me smile again  
Hold me in your arms  
You are my love…_

_\- The Manhattan Transfer, “Smile Again”_

*********

Later in the night, Jennifer roused a bit and smiled, feeling her husband’s eyes on her. “You’re staring at me,” she said, her eyes still closed.

“Noo. I’m _looking_ at you,” he said in that low, husky voice she adored.

“There’s a difference?”

“Mhmm.” Watching her sleep was another one of his favorite past-times, and he relished the opportunity to do so. The reality of her presence beside him again eased his heart tremendously.

“Darling…” she said, opening her eyes to find his deep blue ones gazing at her from just inches away.

“Hmmm?” He continued just looking at her, but noted and smiled at her first use of their familiar pet name for each other. 

“I’m hungry.”

“Oh?” he said in his husky, sexy whisper, filling the syllable with meaning as he reached over to caress her cheek, brushing aside a tendril of her long hair. 

“Well, yes, that too,” she said with a smile, “but I meant that I’m actually hungry – for food. I…couldn’t eat much today.”

“Oh - right. Neither could I. You stay put. I’ll go see what I can find.” He kissed her lingeringly, not really wanting to leave her side.

Jennifer snuggled down in the bed, luxuriating in its homey comfort, and the memory of the loving moments they’d shared there, the last few hours in particular. She also reveled in the knowledge that she was back in her own home, her own bed, to stay. She felt at ease again in her own skin, at last, and had a newfound security that they would be alright.

Jonathan put on his bathrobe and went down to the kitchen. There was food in the fridge, a tray standing ready on the counter. He made several selections, putting them on the tray next to an elegant bud vase already holding two red, Jennifer Hart roses from the garden; they were just beginning to bloom. The stems were tied together with a red ribbon; Jonathan quirked an eyebrow at that detail, and took the tray upstairs.

“Do you think Max is trying to tell us something?” he asked her as he set the tray down and got back into bed. When she saw the roses she had to agree. Max always kept an eye on them, and occasionally found unique ways to make his opinion known.

“He’s worried, Darling.” She loved the feeling of using the endearment again.

“Well, we can ease his mind in the morning – if he doesn’t figure it out by then,” he said, and they just grinned at each other. 

Jennifer inspected the other items on the tray. There was fresh fruit, cheese, a loaf of French bread, chutney, wine, and even devil’s food cake, which Max had made just for her that afternoon.

“We don’t have any marmalade,” he said with a devilish smile as he looked over at her.

“Then I guess we’ll just have to make do with this,” she said, holding up the jar of chutney and smiling back at him as a particularly memorable dinner in bed came to mind.

“I guess we will,” he replied, pleased that she remembered.

“Darling…” she began, turning toward him as she set the jar down.

“Hmm?”

“What has it been like for you, these past few months, really? Max told me some of it, but not much, really - I think he didn’t want me to worry...” she left off, uncertain how to continue. But he knew what she was asking. He turned to face her; she saw a shadow briefly cross his face, and she knew how he’d been. There were things he wouldn’t have shared with anyone else. He sighed.

“It…wasn’t easy. Seeing you unconscious in the car, and to be unable to reach you, to wake you, unable to keep awake myself, ultimately…and then to be trapped in a different hospital, with my leg strung up like a piñata, as Max put it – it about drove me crazy.”

Jennifer could well imagine it. Her husband was not one to be easily kept down, inactive.

“And then…you vanished. And I couldn’t go look for you.” His eyes grew red, and she reached over to caress his cheek, encouraging him to go on.

“Max and Herschel searched, but there was simply no trail to follow. I think they conspired with the doctors to keep me doped up, more sedated than was perhaps really necessary.” He paused, and Jennifer set the tray aside, drawing him into an embrace as they settled back onto the pillows. 

“After getting out of the hospital, I had to retrace every step they’d taken, re-investigate everything myself, even though weeks had gone by. I drove myself so hard that I, ah, got pneumonia. And I fell into a depression. Max had to snap me out of it.”

“Thank goodness for Max,” she said softly.

“Yes.” He pulled her closer. “Jennifer, I was so lost without you.” She held him tightly.

“I’m here now, Jonathan, I’m back. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“It was so hard to have no trace of you. No ransom call. Nothing. Finally, we had to stop searching for you directly. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but there was simply nothing to go on. So we shifted to finding the enemy who would do this to us. I felt, though, as if I was giving up on you, in some way. That’s when the depression was at its worst. For a while I barely functioned at all,” he admitted.

That surprised her. Jonathan was, if anything, a man of action. For him to despair to the point of inaction was a shock. Thank goodness for Max, indeed. Well, she would help him put the past few months behind him, and herself, for good.

“Well, Darling,” she said, with a smile and a twinkle in her eye, as she began caressing his chest with her fingertips, “you certainly showed me tonight how well you’re functioning these days.”

He smiled at that, the pain in his own eyes fading away. “Darling, we haven’t even gotten _started_.”

“Really? Is that a promise?”

“Absolutely.” With that he kissed her, an intense yet leisurely kiss that made her tingle again with desire for him; she returned the kiss with equal intensity. This time, their lovemaking was slow, lingering, passionate, as they got reacquainted with each other’s bodies, noting changes the accident and time had made, and tried to erase the memories of the months they’d spent apart.

*********

Max was restless, unable to sleep. He was worried about Mr. and Mrs. H. He knew things hadn’t been good earlier that day…there had been something, a feeling, in the air that had never been there before. He thought it must have something to do with Mrs. H regaining her memory. And, that they had not worked out whatever it was together. It was extremely unusual. They were a team - when they had arguments, disagreements, they’d always dealt with them quickly, and together. No fight ever lasted long.

He couldn’t stand it. It was getting late and he hadn’t heard Mr. H return. He got up and walked through the house, relieved to see Mr. H’s jacket, the unfamiliar umbrella. Then he noted that the tray was gone from the kitchen counter, along with the roses. _‘Well, okay, that’s a start,’_ he thought to himself. He checked the alarm and the doors, finding all was quiet and in order.

Then Max couldn’t help himself – he paused at the foot of the stairs, one ear cocked, listening. He could just make out their low voices, then Mrs. H’s light laughter and other sounds of their reunion. His face broke into a grin. “Things are back to normal, Freeway!” he said softly to the dog, who’d accompanied him on his rounds of the house. Relieved, he went back to bed, and this time, dropped quickly off to sleep.


	22. Chapter 22

**Part Twenty-two**

_All that I am  
All that I ever was  
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see  
  
_

_If I lay here_   
_If I just lay here_   
_Would you lie with me and just forget the world?_

_\- Snow Patrol, “Chasing Cars”_

*********

(Monday, May 31st)

Jonathan and Jennifer slept soundly and deeply until mid-morning, when Freeway found his way into the room – a precursor, they knew, to a visit from Max. Jonathan roused Jennifer enough to get her into his pajama top, then she settled back to rest sleepily on his chest. Shortly, there was a knock.

“Come in, Max!” Jonathan called, his arm around his wife. 

Max came in bearing a tray laden with an early brunch. Jennifer roused again when she smelled it and sat up, realizing that, again, she was really very hungry.

“Max! How did you know?”

“He always does, Darling.”

“Yes, how about that? His timing is always perfect.” They exchanged glances. And Max took their obvious grogginess and sleep deprivation, as well as their banter, as a very positive sign.

“You two – it’s easy - like reading a book!” Max said, trying to cover up his relief with joking. They just grinned. Then he said, “Seriously, though, I’m glad to see you two getting back to normal. I was getting pretty worried.”

“Yes, Max, things are pretty much back to normal,” Jonathan said, smiling at his wife.

“I hate to spoil things, but Lt. Grey called – twice. He’s anxious to get you down to the precinct.” Max said. Jonathan had known he would be, and took the precaution of unplugging the bedside phone the night before, unwilling to allow any interruptions of their reunion.

“Oh? Again?” Jennifer asked.

“Yeah – he wants both of you to come in. I let you guys sleep in as long as I could, but they’re really chomping at the bit down there,” Max said, then left the room, saying, “I’ll get the car ready and be waiting downstairs.”

Jonathan sighed, reluctant to get out of bed and face the world...he’d much prefer to stay in bed with Jennifer for the foreseeable future. Looking over at her, he could tell she was thinking the same thing. They continued to eat their breakfast, not rushing, and when they were finished he set the tray aside and turned to her.

“Well, I suppose it’s back to the real world.”

“Oh, Darling, do we have to? Why don’t we just stay here? Forever?” She said with a smile, echoing his thoughts.

“Forever, huh?” He smiled, saying, “Sounds good to me.”

“It’s settled, then.”

“It’s certainly very tempting. But I suppose we have to face the world sometime, so we might as well see what Herschel wants. I promise I’ll make it up to you later.” He leaned over to kiss her, then reluctantly got up to go take a shower. On his way out he said, “I’ll fill you in on everything when we get there, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, on one hand wondering what there could be to tell, and on the other, being in such a lovely mood from the night before that she didn’t really care. But he was already gone into the bathroom, in any case. She sighed, too, then followed him into the bathroom to get ready.

*********

They found Lt. Grey in the main office of the precinct. He came over quickly when he saw them.

“Jennifer! I’m so glad to see you.” Herschel took her hands in greeting, then, in an uncharacteristic display, he kissed her on the cheek. He also noted that they both appeared tired, but at ease with each other, for which he was somehow very glad.

She smiled at him. “Herschel. It’s good to be back.”

Herschel said, “Jonathan, I’ve kept the FBI waiting all morning – they want you to finish making your statement. I was able to hold them off, but I’m glad you’ve arrived.”

“A statement? What’s going on?” Jennifer asked. They were walking down a corridor, and came to a window with one-way glass. Jonathan stopped short, staring through the window. An older man was sitting at the table being questioned by Detective Markowicz and an unknown agent.

“Darling, there are some things I didn’t, ah, have a chance to mention last night.” He smiled a smile just for her, and she returned it, both thinking back to the night before.

“Well, I guess you’d better bring me up to speed now, then,” she said.

“Do you recognize that man?” Herschel asked her.

She turned and looked again. “No, I’ve never seen him before. Should I know him?”

“Not necessarily, but it could have been helpful.”

“Why? Who is he?”

“That man is responsible for everything that happened to us.”

She turned back at the sound of his voice; Jonathan was staring through the one-way glass at the man, with a look of hatred on his face like she’d never seen before. A chill ran through her, too, then, at the thought of encountering the person ultimately responsible for everything that had happened during the last 5 months of their lives.

“Who is he?” she asked again, softly, as she laid a hand on Jonathan’s arm. He looked at her and his features softened; he passed a hand over his face as Lt. Grey answered.

“That’s Angelo DeBartelli.”

“Oh, yes – I saw his name on that list you made,” she said, still looking at her husband, “but I didn’t know who he was.”

“You saw the list?”

“Yes. Max showed me everything.”

“Good.”

“Yes, it, ah, helped pass the time yesterday.” He nodded in understanding as he looked into her eyes.

Herschel suggested that they continue in his office, and Jennifer turned to go with him down the hallway, but Jonathan and Max both hesitated at the window.

“So that’s him, huh?” Max asked.

“Yeah, Max, that’s him. That’s him.” 

*********

When they’d all convened in Herschel’s office, he said, “I’ve kept this under pretty tight wraps so far. And I haven’t mentioned, yet, that Jennifer is back, memory and all. I imagine it will come as quite a shock to Mr. DeBartelli. Jonathan, why don’t you let me fill Jennifer in on our activities yesterday? You need to finish making your statement. Max, they’ll want your input as well, I think.”

Jonathan nodded, pausing to squeeze Jennifer’s hand, then went out to the waiting agent. Max followed.

Jennifer accepted the cup of coffee Herschel offered, and listened as he outlined the history of their police investigation into her disappearance, ending with the events of the day before. She was amazed at the sheer luck and improbability of Detective Markowicz’s story. 

Then Herschel played the recording of Jonathan’s confrontation with DeBartelli for her. The color drained from her face as she heard it, but otherwise she masked her unease well. She was dismayed at how much of it sounded familiar, and again bitterly regretted her role, however unwitting, in the whole thing.

“How dare he - ” she began softly, he eyes flashing with anger.

Seeing her discomfort, Herschel pressed on to the matter at hand, trying to deflect her ire.

“Ah, Jennifer, Jonathan told me that when you got to the house you had no memory or knowledge of who you were, but that now it has returned?”

She looked at him, focusing again on what he was saying. “Yes. I’ve regained most of my memory, though there are still some patchy areas.”

“And you’re certain you’ve never seen DeBartelli before?”

“No, never. Should I have?”

“Not necessarily. As you know, the events surrounding his daughter happened before you met Jonathan. But, it could have been helpful if you’d seen him, recently. Do you know Rodney Chortle?” He showed her a photograph.

“No.”

“How about Dr. Scott Bonsaint?” 

“Yes. He was a doctor at St. Christopher’s in Vancouver. I knew him there.”

“Anywhere else?” He noted that she hesitated for a split second before answering.

“Yes. He offered me a place to stay when I was released from the hospital. I had nowhere to go, so I accepted his help.”

“So to your knowledge he was only being friendly?”

“Yes…I didn’t know anyone, I didn’t know anything about myself…it was a welcome offer at the time.” She didn’t want to go into too much detail. Recognizing her reticence, Herschel didn’t press her for more information than he needed; after all, she was a not a suspect - she was a victim and a friend.

“Why did you leave, and how did you get back here?”

“I left because I no longer trusted him – Dr. Bonsaint. He seemed to discourage any desire I had to regain my memories, and later I felt he was actively trying to prevent it. It was…strange, and grew increasingly unacceptable to me, so I decided to discover what I could about my past. I found a lockbox with my jewelry in it – I pawned this watch in Vancouver and traced the ring to the company where it was purchased, and, ah, got the address of the buyer. Luckily, the address they had was current. Once I arrived at the house, my memories began returning much more quickly.”

Herschel was silent for a few minutes, mulling over what she’d said, seeing how it fit in with what he knew. It was clear that she had no knowledge of the plot at all, and that it had been luck and chance that had brought her back to LA and to her husband. He suspected that Bonsaint was at the heart of whatever problems there were between the two of them, but he decided that that was a private matter with no bearing on the case, at least that he could see at this time. And he did not really want to go there, anyway.

“Well, as you heard on the tape, there was quite a plot against you two, and we believe that Dr. Bonsaint was definitely involved.”

She nodded, saying “Yes, even before I heard Jonathan’s side of things, I was beginning to put some pieces together. Max filled me in quite a bit yesterday. I saw their file. I had decided that Bonsaint probably wasn’t responsible, and apparently he wasn’t – he was just a tool. DeBartelli’s tool.” _Just like me_ , she was thinking, but she didn’t say it aloud. But Herschel thought he could hear a trace of bitterness in her voice.

Just then they were interrupted by the phone. After speaking for a few minutes, Herschel hung up and said, “That was Detective Malone, up in Vancouver. We worked with him back in April. I called earlier and asked him to pick up Scott Bonsaint, but apparently there’s no trace of him, at the hospital or at home.”

“At the cabin?”

“No, the house on Delancey Street, in Vancouver.” He paused. “There’s a cabin?”

“Yes – that’s where I’ve been for the past few months.”

Herschel understood, then, why it had been so difficult to track her, or Bonsaint. There were no records of any cabin.

Jennifer was suddenly filled with an urgent need to get up to Vancouver, to find Scott before he could escape – and to have a confrontation of her own. Jonathan had had his - she needed this. An explanation of what had happened to her, and why…and also why he’d been involved, how much he’d known. She rose, wanting to leave, to go back and confront him.

“If he hasn’t left entirely, he’s probably at the cabin. It’s in the mountains, north of the city.”

“Can you give me directions?” Herschel asked.

“It would be hard to find – it’s off an unmarked road. Even I’d have difficulty, but I’m sure I can get us there.” She was pacing, one hand to her head, the other at her waist, looking like she was about to walk out the door.

“Jennifer, wait.”

“I’ve got to see this part of it through, Herschel. I need - ”

“I know, I understand. But just let me make some arrangements.” He felt a bit of déjà vu, dealing with another headstrong Hart.

“Like what, Herschel?” Although she was agitated, she sat down again and heard him out.

“First of all, let me call Detective Malone back. He can meet us at the airport and go out there with us. We’ll need appropriate back-up.” 

She nodded in agreement, recognizing that making some plans in advance would be prudent.

“Okay, Herschel.” She stood again, pacing a bit around the office again. “How long will it take Jonathan to finish with his statement?”

“It shouldn’t be too much longer – we got a lot of it last night, so today it’s mostly clarification, details.”

She nodded again, and they waited. Max finished first, and Jennifer told him the plan, and asked him to start packing for them and to make other preparations for the trip. She hesitated, then made one additional request. 

“Max…”

“Yeah, Mrs. H?”

“One more thing. I want – no, I need - to look more myself, when I go back there…”

“I’ll give Barry a call and see if he can come by today.”

She smiled. “You read my mind. We’ll be along as soon as Jonathan’s finished.”

“Right, Mrs. H. See you at home.”

“Thanks, Max.” She reached out to touch his arm as he turned to go.

“I’m so glad you’re back, Mrs. H,” he said softly, gripping her hands in return.

“Me, too, Max. Me, too.” And she hugged him before he left, glad she didn’t need to hold back anymore.

*********

Jennifer and Herschel went back down the corridor to observe the interrogations while they waited. Chortle was wearing down but DeBartelli only rambled, not making any sense. It seemed to her that he wasn’t playing with a full deck. He didn’t hide his hatred of Jonathan, his animosity and envy of both Harts. But even when confronted with the tape of the previous evening’s events, he wouldn’t divulge anything new. At last Jonathan joined them.

“Herschel,” Jennifer said, “perhaps he needs a nudge? Something to…spook him a bit?”

“Not a bad idea,” Jonathan said with a grin. “Let’s let him know where things stand these days.”

“Right!” Herschel said, understanding their intent. He led them to another room, this one with a regular window. Once in the room, Jonathan and Jennifer turned to each other.

“Quite a night you had, Darling,” she said.

“Yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair.

“You gave him that shiner?”

“Uh huh.”

“Good.” Her eyes flashed, but they softened again when she looked at him.

“Darling, I’m sorry I left without you yesterday - without saying anything about any of this.”

“Jonathan, we’ve been through that. It’s behind us now. I just thought you were out there pining, not chasing down the bad guys,” she said with a smile.

“I was pining. But chasing him down, confronting him – it helped.”

“Okay then.” She went up to him and put her arms around his waist. He followed suit.

She caught some movement out of the corner of her eye, and turning her head, she saw DeBartelli as they led him past, making sure he had time enough to see her – them - through the window. She bristled, momentarily overcome with a desire to hit him – but he wasn’t within reach. Jonathan was, however, so she opted to do something she hoped would hurt DeBartelli much more that a mere slap. She looked deeply into her husband’s eyes and kissed him. Knowing her intentions, he smiled held her tightly against him as he returned her kiss. Pausing, he turned to look DeBartelli in the eye, then dismissed him from his mind as he turned back to his wife and kissed her again.

DeBartelli could hardly believe what he saw. It wasn’t so much the kiss, which was maddening enough – but the way they looked at each other, as if nothing at all had changed! As if no time had passed, and nothing had happened! It had to be some kind of trick, he was sure of it. That couldn’t be Jennifer Hart…he knew she was a thousand miles away…but, could he be sure? He hadn’t heard from Bonsaint in several days, which was unusual. But no – he refused to believe it! He just raved and spluttered in anger and confusion as the guard led him away.

Jonathan and Jennifer were only vaguely aware of the old man’s loud reaction, once he was past the window. They just looked at each other again and smiled.

“That was satisfying,” Jonathan said.

“Mhmm,” she agreed. “Definitely.” And she slid her arms up around his neck and kissed him again.

*********

A few minutes later Herschel rejoined them, actually feeling pleased at the rush of embarrassment that came from interrupting them in an intimate moment – he’d have thought he’d be used to it by now - and said, “Well, that seemed to really throw him off the deep end, I must say. He’s nuts – maybe certifiable. We’re bringing in a shrink.” He, too, looked immensely satisfied.

“Jonathan, we still have few details to clear up, then we can get ready to go,” he said.

“Go? Go where?” They’d separated a little when Herschel came in, but he’d kept one arm around her waist.

Jennifer said, “Vancouver. I – we - have some unfinished business up there.”

“Jennifer, I - ” but he didn’t finish what he was going to say. He wanted to let the whole thing go…they had DeBartelli, why not let the Vancouver police deal with Bonsaint? And, he admitted to himself, he didn’t want Jennifer to see him again. He wanted it all behind her – behind them – for good. But something in her expression made him hold back from saying it.

Jennifer was sure she knew what he was thinking. She turned toward him again, glad for their close proximity as she spoke; her hand came to rest on his chest. Herschel looked away from them, trying not to intrude on their conversation.

“Jonathan, I don’t want to go back there – I’d hoped never to go back...but then I realized that I have to – I need to. I want some answers! He tried to keep me from my life, to keep me in limbo – to keep me – her - to himself….” That part came out in a whisper.

She went on, “Besides, it’s about time he knew exactly who I am. Just as you needed to confront DeBartelli, I need to do this. He needs to meet Jennifer Hart. He needs to answer to me – to us - for his role in all of this.”

“I just want to put this all behind us. You don’t have to see him - ” but he stopped as she spoke again.

“I know – I want it all behind us, too. But for that to happen, I need to do this. I need to see it through to the end, and that means…going back.”

He could see that she needed some closure of her own. Jonathan respected that, and was proud of her strength and determination, even if he had misgivings.

“Okay,” he said softly. “When do we go?”

“Max has already gone home to pack for us. We can go as soon as we’re all ready.”

“All?”

Herschel spoke up then, facing them again. “Yeah, I’m tagging along, thought I’d bring Markowicz as well, since he’s been dedicated to the case and we’ve both worked with Malone before. We’ll need to discuss things with him, since this is an international incident now.” Then he added, “Jennifer will need to show him – us – where this cabin is, so we can -”

“The cabin? Can’t Malone just pick him up at the hospital?” Vancouver was one thing…he hadn’t considered needing to go to the cabin.

“He hasn’t been in to work in a few days. They’re watching for him, but it looks like he’s holed up in this cabin of his – that is, if he’s not long gone.”

Jonathan turned to his wife and asked, “What do you think he’ll do?”

“I’m not sure…by now, Scott clearly knows I’m gone. He’s probably already searched the area, since I often went hiking on the trails. I’d guess by now he’s figured out that I left. It could all depend on how involved he is, whether or not he’s nervous about DeBartelli finding out. And I suppose a lot rides on what his feelings for me are, and what he believes mine are for him,” Jennifer said.

He just nodded, looking at her. He didn’t like it. But at least she would not be going alone.

”Let’s go home and help Max, Darling. Besides, I have an appointment,” she said with a smile as they walked out of the room.

They made arrangements with Herschel to meet them at the airport, then took the car home and helped Max finish with the preparations for a late afternoon flight.

*********

At first Barry was perplexed by the call for a house appointment. Jennifer had long been one of his favorite clients, and he had been greatly saddened by the news of her disappearance. The Harts had been very helpful to him a number of years before; he felt he owed them a huge debt, and he was accommodating in return whenever he could be. So, wondering if Jonathan had some important guest to keep happy, he’d agreed to the house call right away, and cleared his schedule for the afternoon. He had been very surprised, and thrilled, to see Jennifer when he arrived at the house. 

“Jennifer!”

“Hello, Barry,” she said, smiling at him.

“What, uh…when did you get back?”

“Hi, Barry. Jennifer’s been home for a few days, but we’re not publicizing it right now,” Jonathan said, as he shook Barry’s hand and showed him in.

“Of course, Jonathan, Jennifer, anything for you two - you know that. What can I do for you?” He was perplexed, but didn’t ask questions, respecting their reluctance to talk about it.

“I just need to look like myself again, Barry, and I knew you were just the person to help me do it.”

“Absolutely, Jennifer. You know you’re my favorite client. Anything for you - I’m just glad to have the opportunity,” he said, clasping her hand in his and smiling at her.

They went up to the dressing room with its good lighting and mirrors, and Barry worked his magic. When he was finished, she looked in the mirror and sighed, pleased with what she saw. Nothing of that half-person, Jennifer Smith, was evident in her reflection anymore, she was very happy to note. It was as if the last piece of the puzzle that was Jennifer Edwards Hart had finally been put into place, and she was complete again. 

When they went back up north, she wanted Scott to know, as soon as he saw her, that she was no longer the incomplete person that had been Jennifer Smith. Due largely to the trioxylene, that Jennifer had, for a while, been content to be whatever he’d wanted her to be; she had been a poorly written, one-dimensional character, created to fulfill some need or desire of his that she still couldn’t comprehend. But he would see that the woman he’d molded and manipulated had ceased to exist, replaced with a fully-realized, complex, intelligent, multi-dimensional individual who had a life full of meaning, memories, and love – a person he would never have the privilege of knowing.

These thoughts swirled around in her head as she stared at her reflection, and she felt like she was back in her own element – that her image projected her own identity again at last, making her feel stronger. When she saw Scott Bonsaint again, she resolved that it would be her, Jennifer Hart, calling the shots…this time, he would answer to her.

“What do you think?” Barry asked, interrupting her train of thought, and catching her eye in the mirror.

“It’s perfect, Barry. Thank you.”

He didn’t know her story, but he seemed to understand that this simple service had helped bring her back from wherever she’d been, had helped restore her to her former, confident self in some way. He leaned over to kiss her cheek and said, “Welcome back, Jennifer. You were missed.”

He stood back, then said, “Let’s go show Jonathan the results.”

She nodded and they left to go downstairs.

*********

Jonathan was in the foyer when they came down the stairs, and turned to look at her as they descended. She took his breath away – but then, that was nothing new, he thought, smiling. He was glad to note that she seemed pleased with the transformation. 

When they got to the bottom he said, “Feel better?”

“Yes – infinitely.”

“Thanks for coming by on such short notice, Barry,” he said, turning to their friend.

“You’re welcome. Jennifer, make sure you come by regularly, now that you’re back.”

“I will, don’t worry!” she said, smiling.

They saw him to the door, then Jonathan couldn’t resist grabbing her hand and pulling her into his arms, whispering, “You look beautiful – no matter how you style your hair.” 

She smiled and gave him a kiss in reply.

A few moments later, Max came out with his own bag.

“Good - you’re ready,” Jonathan said, exchanging a look with his wife.

“I’m just glad you two didn’t think you were rushing off anywhere without me,” Max said, relieved he wasn’t going to have any arguments from them.

They parted and just smiled at him, gathering up their bags. Neither had thought for a second that leaving Max behind this time would work. Besides, Jonathan thought he may need his able assistance with a few things he had planned. Freeway, however, would be staying next door with Marie.

*********

Two hours later they were finally in the air on their way to Vancouver, and Jennifer had a moment to relax, and really think about what lay ahead. She felt a sense of unease beginning to creep over her. Much as she felt she needed this confrontation with Scott, she found she was uncomfortable with the idea of returning to the cabin, of seeing him again. She had hoped never to see either again, especially once she had regained her memory, and her life with Jonathan. But that was before DeBartelli’s plot had been exposed, and Scott’s likely involvement in it...now, she had to know the truth. She sighed; Jonathan squeezed her hand and leaned close to her.

“You all right, Darling?”

She nodded. “Mhm.” She turned toward him, looking into his blue eyes, which she couldn’t get enough of. How she loved this man! To have not known it for so long seemed unbearable now…and now her heart ached with it, as if it’d burst. She knew he felt exactly the same for her, and also that he’d help her stay calm and focused, when they confronted Scott.

*********

It was late when they arrived in Vancouver, so they went straight to the hotel. They arranged to meet with Detective Malone first thing in the morning; then they’d make the trip out to the cabin. After a light dinner, Max left for his room. Jonathan and Jennifer spent the night enjoying each other’s company and making up more of the time lost to them. Every moment together strengthened their bond and reignited their love for each other. In the morning they felt refreshed and ready for what lay ahead of them.


	23. Chapter 23

**Part Twenty-three**

_Shared the laughter  
Shared the tears  
We both know  
We'll go on from here  
  
’Cause together, we are strong  
In my arms  
That's where you belong  
  
This love is unbreakable  
Through fire and flame  
When all this is over  
Our love still remains  
  
This love is unbreakable  
It's unmistakable  
And each time I look in your eyes  
I know why  
This love is untouchable  
A feeling my heart just can't deny  
Each time you whisper my name  
Oh baby, I know why  
’Cause each time I look in your eyes  
Oh baby, I know why_

_\- Westlife, “Unbreakable”_

*********

(Tuesday, June 1st)

Early the next morning they were at the precinct of the Vancouver police, in Detective Malone’s office.

“I have to tell you, I was a bit surprised when you called and asked us to pick up Bonsaint,” he said when they were all seated.

“Really? Why is that?” Jonathan asked.

“Well, we never got anything on him. His background is clean. And I spoke to him, several weeks ago, now, and he said he hadn’t seen you since you checked out of the hospital. That he’d been out of town.”

“What else did he say?” Jennifer asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Jonathan looked over at her, hearing something odd in her tone.

“Well, I showed him your photo, the one sent up by the lieutenant… told him that you were in an accident in California. That we had a missing persons report. I think that’s about it.”

“And you said that was about a month ago?” she asked.

“Yes, about. Why?”

Jennifer’s face had an inscrutable look; Jonathan couldn’t tell if it was dismay, or anger – he suspected both. 

“Just, ah, trying to fit everything together,” she said, not elaborating further.

Jonathan was also bothered by this news, as he realized that Scott had known her identity for some time, at least, and not told her. Then, as he thought about what she’d told him about her escape, he felt his own blood begin to boil; suddenly he was itching to get his hands on this man.

They wrapped up their plans, Jennifer saying little, and then they all moved to get going. As they rose, Jonathan asked Herschel and Detective Malone to give them a moment; they nodded and left. 

Jennifer had remained seated, a troubled look coming to her face now that the others were gone. He took her hands in his and drew her up to face him, looking deeply into her eyes. As angry as he was, he knew how much worse this news must be for her.

“Jennifer. It’s okay.”

“It’s not!” she said, clearly upset. “He knew, and said nothing! Oh, Jonathan! We lost enough time as it was!” She could feel the tears starting to build, and tried to hold them back. “To think that it all could have been over, that - ”

“Shh,” he said, trying to soothe her as he wrapped his arms around her. “Darling, I know. I’m angry too – you’ve no idea. But it’s in the past now - it’s over, and we can’t go back and change it, much as we’d like to.”

“Jonathan, how did this happen to us?”

He didn’t have a good answer for her, really, so he just held her closer and kissed her hair.

She hugged him back, and whispered, “I need closure, but…I don’t really want to go back there.”

“I know,” he replied softly.

“I have to face him again – I need to, but I don’t know if I can face…” she stopped, a frown he couldn’t see crossing her features, but he knew it was there all the same – he could hear it in her voice.

“What, Darling?” he asked, as he caressed her back gently.

“I don’t know if I can face…who I was there, or the things that happened there – the things I did. I – I don’t think I can. I don’t want to.” She rested her forehead on his shoulder.

He closed his eyes, and just continued to hold her tight for a moment. Then he placed a finger under her chin, raising her face so he could look into her eyes.

“Jennifer, Darling, my love, we’ve been over that,” he said, echoing her own words to him from the day before. “That was a different person – I truly believe that.”

“I know, Darling - thank you - that means everything to me. But I have… _her_ memories, too, in my mind. It’s just so difficult to reconcile the way she felt, the things she thought and did, with who I am. I don’t know if I can.” The last came out as a whisper.

Jonathan wished he fix that for her, but also that there wasn’t much he could do. So he just said, “I don’t know how much I can help with that, Darling, other than to say that I love you, I never stopped loving you, and nothing that happened can ever change that fact. I will always love you.”

She smiled, looking deeply into his blue eyes. “I love you the same,” she said, “And you’ve no idea how much your acceptance and understanding, your love, does help me – it’s exactly what I need. You are everything – the only thing – I’ll ever need.” 

Jennifer thought she could feel her sense of peace returning, despite what lay ahead. Her doubts began to fade as she took a deep, cleansing breath. With him beside her, she knew she could face any trial – she could even face the events of the past, so apart from who she was and yet still there, invading her mind and her memories. In time and with Jonathan’s help, she’d be able to put them behind her. After today, she hoped never look back again.

Jonathan held in a sigh. He’d known his words of the other night were important, but also that they might not be enough for her to get over all of this yet. They had been critical to helping her understand how he felt, but she was the one who’d lived as Jennifer Smith, and had her memories, mixed in now with her own. As uncertain as he’d been about this trip, he saw now that for Jennifer to come to terms with everything that had happened, it was necessary for her to go back to the cabin and confront her own demons, as well as the man responsible for them. Her words now assured him that she was working through it, that she’d be okay.

“Today, Darling, we will end this. We’ll go out there, together, and you’ll be fine. We’ll see him and end this, once and for all. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly, and leaned into him again, drawing strength from him, from his words, his touch.

“Are you all right?” he whispered.

“Mhmm,” she said, giving him a loving smile.

“Okay then. Ready?”

She nodded, squeezed his hand, and together they went out to find the others.

*********

It was a long drive up into the mountains. They were in two unmarked cars, Herschel and Malone in the first with the Harts, and Markowicz with one of Malone’s men in the second car. Max, meanwhile, had stayed in town to work on a special project for Mr. H.

They were able to find the unmarked road with Jennifer’s guidance; she asked Malone to stop a few minutes’ drive from the cabin. Before getting out of the car, she turned to her husband in the back seat, saying, “Darling, I want to talk to him alone first. Give me ten minutes, then come up.”

“Jennifer - ”

“Please, Jonathan. I have some things I need to say to him. Besides, perhaps I can get him to talk.” She could see that he didn’t like it. She wanted her husband with her, but she also needed to face Scott alone, first. She hoped to spare Jonathan, if she could, from certain things that might come up.

Jonathan understood – he didn’t really like it, but he did understand, and could see the look of steel in her eyes, the flash of anger again. 

“Okay, Darling. We’ll handle it your way – with one adjustment. I’m not waiting here – we don’t know what he’ll do, when he learns the game is up. I won’t take that risk. I’ll go up with you and wait outside. Okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.” She knew he would respect her need to handle things in her own way, and that he’d wait until an opportunity presented itself for him to join her.

“Give us about a 20 minute head start,” he said to Malone and Herschel. They nodded their acquiescence. “You got it, Jonathan,” Herschel affirmed. He understood how the man operated, and wanted to give him his chance to deal with Bonsaint.

“Right. Let’s go, then.” He grabbed the long, oversized umbrella that was stashed in the car; it had been growing increasingly overcast as they’d climbed into the mountains. They got out of the car and she took his hand, leading him into the woods beside the road and heading in the general direction of the cabin.

*********

When they reached the edge of the clearing where the cabin stood, she paused, turning about to survey the area. Scott’s car was there. She decided to move around to the far side of the house, where they could approach it unobserved. Taking Jonathan’s hand again, she led him silently around to the other side of the clearing.

“Wait here,” she said. “Give me five minutes.”

He nodded, then gripped her hand to keep her from leaving, held her shoulders, and kissed her forehead gently. She kissed his lips in return, then turned and crept toward the cabin.

When she reached the door at the side of the house, she paused, as if steeling herself, then entered without knocking. She went down the hall and paused as she entered the living room, various memories springing unbidden to her mind. She pushed them aside. Pandora barked once and ran to greet her, yipping and jumping. She knelt to pet the dog, randomly thinking that she’d ask Detective Malone to find her a good home.

“Hi, girl, did you miss me?” Then she looked up, sensing Scott’s presence. He entered the room and stopped short, shock and relief on his face. But shock, relief about what, she wondered, unable to tell. She stood up to face him, for the moment forgetting about the dog at her feet.

“Jennifer!” As soon as he saw her, he knew there was something different about her. She’d gotten her hair cut, and her clothes were casual yet stylish, expensive-looking. She even carried herself differently from the woman he knew. He felt a pang of something – dread? - come over him, but tried gamely to pull it together.

“Scott.” There was frost in her voice, but he either didn’t hear it or ignored it.

“You look fabulous! Where’ve you been? If you wanted a shopping trip you should have told me,” he said, while wondering where she’d gotten the money for such an outfit. He moved to embrace her, but she held up her hand to stop him.

She saw him trying to play it cool, and knew he must have a lot of questions on his mind - but she was determined to have the upper hand in this conversation. Any discomfort or unease she’d felt about seeing him again evaporated. She felt nothing for him, about him - she felt nothing except anger. It began to course through her, making her feel strong.

“Where I’ve been is none of your business, actually. I’m rather surprised to find you still here. I mean, I’ve been gone a week – you’ve had plenty of time to get away.”

He tried to play it off as if he didn’t understand. “What do you mean, Jennifer?”

“Well, at least you got that part right - my name is Jennifer. Jennifer Edwards Hart.” She said it slowly, and with total conviction. She went on, “But then, you knew that already, didn’t you? My real name. I suspected that you didn’t really want me to remember, Scott – but I didn’t think you’d go so far as to - ”

“What? I helped you! And I never knew your name,” he interjected, still trying to play it off, but also irritated that she’d apparently seen through him.

“Don’t act all innocent, Scott. I know I needed help in the beginning and that you gave it – the question is why. I always wondered, even more so after I quit taking the pills.”

His surprise was obvious this time. Had he even known Jennifer Smith at all? He suddenly began to doubt it, and it rattled him. He interrupted her to say “I just wanted us to be together,” making another play for her sympathy. “I love you so much - ”

“Don’t talk to me about love!” she snapped. “You know, basically everything you’ve done since we met has been reprehensible - motivated by selfishness and I daresay self-preservation. You know nothing about love!” She turned away for a moment, marshaling her anger and taking a deep breath to collect herself, then turned back to face him.

“I know Malone talked to you, Scott. How dare you?! How dare you not tell me!” The venom in her voice was unmistakable now. “I want an explanation. They were out _looking_ for me! I could have - ”

Scott now felt pushed onto the defensive. He began protesting, getting nervous and angry at this attack from her; not sure how to handle it, he attacked too, his voice practically a snarl. “ _You needed me!_ You were at that hospital for, what? Six or eight weeks? And _no one_ came looking for you! How was I to know then that you’d been in a car accident in California?”

“But you did know - a month ago! And yet you said nothing!”

“Because I’d fallen in love with you!”

She cut him off again, impatient with his protestations, sensing their insincerity. “No! I don’t believe that anymore. I’m not sure she really ever believed it, either. I think it was convenient for you, and I think you were instructed to do it all. You cooped me up here, with no one else to talk to, no one but you to rely on. Then you drugged me so I wouldn’t want to remember.” Then her voice changed as she went on. “Do you even know why you were told to watch me, and then to try to prevent me from remembering? Did he even tell you?”

“What? Who?” he tried to look clueless, but he couldn’t hide the hint of panic in his voice.

“You know perfectly well who – DeBartelli. At least his motives were obvious, once he was found out. But what was your motivation? How much did he pay you?”

“Nobody paid me anything.” Then he made one last-ditch effort to save himself by trying to appeal to her emotions – at least, what he’d thought them to be. “Look, Jenny, we can still fix this – we can still be together – that’s why I stayed here. I knew only you could find this place. So I waited – I knew you’d come back! I know you’re angry with me now, but at least you came back to me! We can get away from DeBartelli – we can still be together – ” he stopped abruptly when her palm connected with his face with no small amount of force.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying! You’re in some sort of dream world, still!” A look of anger and irritation crossed her face as she went on, ticking his transgressions off on her fingers.

“You lied to me, about my supposedly terrible past. You kidnapped me, for all intents and purposes. You drugged me, you even hit me and knocked me out that day I found the lockbox.” 

He just paced the room, barely listening to her now, wondering what to do next. He was uncertain how everything could be unraveling so quickly. He’d been a fool not to get out when he realized she’d vanished and he discovered the watch was missing, too. He had to get out – and he could protect his own ass if she’d just go with him. One way or another…. He looked up as her next words sank into his brain, feeling a ray of hope.

“And you know what, Scott? All of that, I can probably forgive. I certainly will try to forget it, when all is finally said and done.” She paused as if for breath, and a look he couldn’t identify mixed in with the anger in her beautiful face. 

Scott was about to respond, but stopped as she went on and it became clear that any hope of her going with him willingly was out of the question.

“What I cannot forget, however – what I cannot forgive you for - is the time I lost with my husband because of you. With him, because of him, I know the true meaning and spirit of love. Even when I had no memory of it, that knowledge was there, in my heart, in my subconscious, waiting to get out.”

She shifted gears. “You made a mistake, you know, that day when you knocked me out – did you ever figure that out? That one mistake made it possible for me to be here today, now, like this.” She held up her left hand, waggling her fingers. “You missed this little piece of evidence when you took back the watch. It was enough to let me know it wasn’t just a dream – that _he_ wasn’t just a dream.”

He just stared at her now, apparently silenced by her words, so she went on, pain and anguish now clearly evident on her face.

“I had a life, Scott – and a good one – a happy one! It was filled with a love unlike anything Jennifer Smith could ever have had with you. I will never forgive you for being part of the plot that took that away from me, or for the anguish I felt when I got my memory back and realized what I’d been missing all of those months. I can’t forgive you for the suffering my husband went through, not knowing if I was dead or alive. Or the way you used Jennifer Smith for your own gain and called it love. And I’ll never – _never_ \- forgive you for the anguish it caused, to have to tell the love of my life what happened between you and, and her. You helped take five months away from us, Scott, and could have caused much more damage and heart-ache than you did. I can forgive you the rest – the crimes you have committed – but I cannot ever forgive you for this.”

*********

Jonathan had quickly grown impatient at the edge of the clearing, but he waited until the agreed-upon five minutes had gone by. Then he quietly made his way up to the house, entering by the same door Jennifer had used. He closed it silently and made his way toward the voices he could hear down the hall; one was clearly Jennifer’s. He stopped at the end of the hall, still out of sight, and listened carefully for some kind of cue from her, wanting to respect her need to have her say first. From what he could tell, she was doing a first-rate job of dressing him down. She had just dropped DeBartelli’s name; Bonsaint apparently ignored – or tried to ignore – the reference, and started talking about the two of them running away together – that is, until Jonathan heard a loud crack as she slapped him. 

He continued to listen in amazement, proud of how she was letting Bonsaint have it as she enumerated his many crimes against her. So he was stunned by what he heard her say next - that she could forgive him for all of it. Of course, it was in his wife’s nature to be kind and forgiving, but in this case, in particular, he wouldn’t have thought she’d be so inclined – he certainly wasn’t. But then she went on, her voice shaking with emotion as she listed all of the things she could _not_ forgive Bonsaint for. Jonathan just leaned against the wall, eyes closed, as he listened to her review Bonsaint’s offenses against them and their love for each other. He felt overwhelmed by the depth of emotion she was expressing, knowing that his own matched hers in intensity…again he felt his own anguish from the last five months sweep over him, and swore that this, today, would at last be the end of it.

*********

Jennifer finished speaking, an extreme sense of calm and freedom coming over her, after facing down the enemy that for so long she hadn’t known she had. Scott continued to just stare at her, apparently speechless, which she found annoyed her greatly. She still wanted details, to get to the bottom of things – to understand what had made him do it all. But she had faced him and had her say, and it had been satisfying, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

She moved further away from him, looking down the hall for Jonathan; she found him and their eyes met; in that single glance, she knew that he had heard everything – everything that mattered, anyway. She smiled then, taking a step toward him and holding out her hand for him.

“Jonathan?”

He came out of the hallway and into the room, reaching for her hand. Then they turned to face Scott again, together - a united, impenetrable front. It was unmistakable.

Scott saw the possessive yet supportive, caring, loving way the man placed his hand at her back, barely needing to touch her and yet so obviously connected to her – he imagined he could see their bond, an almost palpable, unbreakable connection in the very air around them.

He also felt that sense of panic returning, building at the realization that he was no longer in control of things – and hadn’t been, since the moment she’d walked through the door again. If everything came out, he was done for professionally - maybe for good.

“I think it’s time you gave us some straight answers, doctor,” Jonathan said, in a tone that brooked no refusals.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He was still protesting innocence, but Jennifer caught the change in his tone.

“I mean, we know you were answering to DeBartelli, and we want to know why.” Jonathan didn’t like playing this game, and intended to cut it short.

Jennifer turned a now steely gaze on Bonsaint. “I told you before that I wanted an explanation, Scott – for everything. We know why DeBartelli did it. Why did you?”

He moved around the room, not answering right away. Taking charge, Jonathan reached out and pushed him backward into a chair and stood there over him. When Bonsaint tried to get up, Jonathan poked him in the chest with the metal tip of the umbrella, effectively pinning him in his seat. “You’re not going anywhere. I’ll ask you again: How, and why, did you get involved with DeBartelli?”

Eyeing this man now towering above him, he answered, “I was approached, told it’d be worth my while to…to interfere.” Scott resented this man’s presence in his house – and that he’d essentially ruined all of his plans. He decided he’d just go along until he could think of a way out of this mess.

“Worth your while?” Jonathan’s tone was dangerous.

“He, ah, knew things, about my past – well, a certain thing actually…I had no choice, really.”

“DeBartelli?” Jonathan ignored Scott’s plea for sympathy, as did Jennifer. At his nod, Jonathan asked, “What do you know about him, and his plot against us?”

“Nothing - all I know is his name. He visited me with a couple of goons. Said he knew about my past, uh, transgressions…and could make things very ugly with the Board of Medicine.” Scott was growing more and more resentful of this interrogation, and his chest was going to be sore from all of the jabs he was taking from that blasted umbrella. But he played along, telling what they wanted to know, happy to give up DeBartelli if it’d help him save himself - all the while waiting for his chance.

“What transgressions?” Jonathan asked.

He hesitated, then admitted “I, ah, well, I cheated on my medical board exams. I knew I was going to be a brilliant doctor, and couldn’t take the chance of failing. I don’t know how he found out - ”

Jennifer interrupted him to sum things up. “So you committed several new crimes, to say nothing of breaking the cardinal rule of medicine - to do no harm - in order to cover up an earlier crime – or at the very least, an ethical mistake. At my – our - expense.” He just sat there, looking for all the world like it had all been justifiable. She wanted to hit him again. Or better yet, let Jonathan do it. She looked away.

“What did he want from you?” Jonathan pressed. He wanted specifics – the rest of the puzzle.

“He said a woman would be brought in to the ER with severe injuries – rock climbing accident. He wanted reports on her status.”

“That’s it?”

“At first. After that first meeting, we always communicated by phone. I never saw him again. But I did see the goons. They hung around the hospital, followed me places.”

“And as Jennifer improved?”

“He seemed thrilled, almost gleeful, with the report of her amnesia. Said it’d make things easier. Told me to see to it that she, ah, didn’t remember. It was a simple matter to include the trioxcylene in her meds, and later, to convince her that it helped…that she needed it, wanted it.” He met Jonathan’s gaze straight on, unapologetic, but avoided Jennifer’s.

“How did you come to offer her the cabin?”

“She seemed so lost, at the hospital. Vulnerable. We became friends.” Finally he turned to her. “You were easy to like. It seemed an okay thing – to offer you a place to go, to help you.”

“Did he suggest that, too?” Jonathan continued to direct the conversation.

“Well, yes.”

“And you were only too happy to oblige.” It was pretty much as he’d expected.

“I didn’t see the harm in it, okay? I didn’t know why it was so important to him, and I didn’t ask. It was enough that he knew about the exam. And you did need somewhere to go.” The last he directed to her, again, as if it could somehow excuse everything else. 

“And you gave him periodic updates?” Jonathan wanted to avoid any talk of what had gone on between them in the cabin, as did Jennifer. That was over; he didn’t need to hear anything more about that.

Jennifer said, “But you didn’t tell him when I went missing last week?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He didn’t answer right away. “I was, uh, uncertain what to do. I was afraid of what he’d do – if my secret got out, I’d have been discredited, lost my license. And once I got to know you, I didn’t want you to remember, and leave.”

She frowned at him. “Preventing my recall was hardly the right way to earn my trust, let alone my affection.”

He just shrugged, unconvinced. He knew if he had just gotten rid of the damn lockbox, or if he hadn’t had to be gone so much, maybe they wouldn’t be here like this, right now – things would be the same as they’d been before. The way he’d liked it. He decided that he hated this man with his umbrella, and wanted to get even with him for taking her, and everything, away.

She looked away; both she and Jonathan had heard enough, and were relieved to hear the sound of cars coming into the drive.

“Good – they’re here,” she said.

“Don’t worry, Bonsaint, you’ll probably still be able to practice medicine where you’re going.”

Scott realized then that they’d brought the police…strange that they’d felt the need to confront him first. They’d gotten the whole story out of him. He felt rage and desperation course through him and when Jonathan looked away, out the window toward the sound of the cars coming up the drive, he made his move.

He lunged out of the chair, knocking the umbrella aside and taking a swing at Jonathan. Jonathan managed to duck in time, but Bonsaint grabbed his arm, twisting it behind him. Before shoving him away to make a run for it, he said in his ear, “Jennifer said she told you about us – did she give you the specifics, about the fun we had together? How much she liked it? We really enjoyed each other - I can see why you don’t want to give her up…but at least I had her for a little while.” He wanted to make him so mad that he would be stunned, not follow, or better yet – turn on her so he could get away. Now that his little fantasy was over, perhaps he could ruin something for _them_ , in return. 

He shoved Jonathan, putting his foot out to trip him as he stumbled. Then he ran down the hall and out the door, away from the drive where the cars were pulling up. If he could just get into the woods….

“That’s it!” Jonathan roared, furious. He felt a mix of unfamiliar emotions course through him as the man’s words found their mark and pierced his heart. But his fury at the man’s taunts allowed him to push those feelings aside, and fueled his resolve as he recovered his footing to take off after Scott.

Jennifer wasn’t sure what Scott had whispered to Jonathan, but she could guess, from the confusion of emotions playing across his face. He looked angry, certainly, but there was also a pang of…something else. Pain, uncertainty, doubt, even jealousy, maybe – in one glance she could see them all in his expression and knew what Bonsaint’s parting jab had been about. For all that he had explained away her actions as those of someone else, she saw that emotionally, he wasn’t finished dealing with the implications. For now, he was responding with anger, which suited the moment – but when would he deal with the rest?

She watched for a second as Jonathan raced down the hall after Bonsaint, then she was just a step behind him.

Jonathan caught up to Bonsaint on the steps from the deck, and he launched himself off of them to tackle him, sending Bonsaint tumbling, and then they were rolling on the ground, both struggling to get the upper hand. After a second or two, Jonathan managed to do so, with a solid punch to Bonsaint’s jaw. Then, the complexity of emotions Jonathan was feeling was all packed into another punch that sent Bonsaint sprawling. Jonathan grabbed the man’s collar, holding him, and hit him again, and again. But before he could land another, his fist poised, he felt Jennifer’s gentle touch on his arm.

When Jennifer had reached the deck, she could tell that Jonathan was on the verge of losing all control. Concerned, she ran quickly down the steps and knelt by his side.

“Jonathan, Darling, enough. Enough.” She knelt to meet his eyes steadily, her grip on his arm tightening, until she felt his muscles relax. “He’s not worth it, and besides, he’s not the real enemy, Jonathan – we’ve got him, he’ll never bother us again. And neither will he,” she said, nodding toward Bonsaint, lying on the ground, held fast by her husband.

“He IS the enemy - he took advantage of you…” his anger was evident in the haunted, pained look on his face, in his rough voice. She knew what he was really saying – that until this, he’d never failed to protect her - even, she thought privately, when he hadn’t needed to. She knew it was evidence of his love for her. Now, however, she knew he hadn’t worked through his own emotions about this man, who he must feel had taken something from him that he considered his alone…Scott’s taunting comments had pulled those emotions out and he had reacted in anger. As much as she understood, however, his comment stung, all the same.

Jonathan realized the implication of his words immediately, and regretted them. He forgot about the man lying at his feet, who was watching them mutely, still dazed from the punches. He turned toward her, then, still kneeling on the ground, and reached out to caress her face, the other clasping her hand to his chest, nothing but love now in his eyes.

He spoke gently and with remorse. “Darling, I truly believe what I said before. I do. I was referring to his intentions, his motives, not yours. He served his own interests in perpetuating the situation. He is to blame, not you. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

Scott looked up at them from where he’d fallen, intrigued by their exchange; again, he could see clearly that she was no longer Jennifer Smith. He also somehow recognized that this love he was witnessing between them would survive, that it would transcend everything. He’d never experienced anything like it, and found himself envying it bitterly. How he had wanted her…. He had to wonder what had motivated DeBartelli to play with their lives so cruelly. 

Then several police officers surrounded them, shouting for him to put his hands in the air. As he got up slowly and Detective Malone cuffed his hands behind his back, he watched as they embraced each other, then walked away without another look in his direction. He knew he had not only lost, but also that, in reality, he’d never stood a chance.


	24. Chapter 24

**Part Twenty-four**

_Tell me how you love me more  
And how you think I’m sexy baby  
That you don’t want nobody else  
You don’t want this guy you don’t want that guy _

_Tell me how you love my body  
And how I make you feel baby  
  
_

_You wanna roll with me you wanna hold with me_

_You wanna stay warm and get out of the cold with me  
I just love to hear you say it  
It makes a man feel good baby  
Tell me you depend on me  
I need to hear it  
  
I’m lost without you  
Can’t help myself  
How does it feel_

_To know that I love you baby  
_

_\- Robin Thicke, “Lost Without U”_   
  


*********

(Wednesday, June 2nd)

“Are you ready to go, Darling?” Jonathan asked, walking into the hotel suite.

“Yes – all ready. Let’s go home.” Jennifer was exhausted, physically and emotionally, from the events of the preceding week, which had culminated in the confrontation with Scott the day before, and a late night at police headquarters after the long drive back to Vancouver.

When they’d loaded everything into the car, Max got into the back seat, already aware of their next stop, which was not the airport.

Getting into the driver’s seat, Jonathan looked over at Jennifer, saying, “We have a quick stop to make, then we’ll be off.”

She grimaced, just wanting to put Vancouver behind them, but said nothing. Shortly, it became clear what was going on as they pulled up in front of Monsieur Laurent’s jewelry shop.

“I thought you might want to end our visit here on a more pleasant note,” he said, smiling at her.

“Oh Jonathan, what a good idea! Thank you for thinking of it.”

They went into the shop. When Msr. Laurent saw them, his face lit up with a smile.

“Mr. Hart! Et vous,” he switched to French, “devez être Madame Hart. C'est un vrai plaisir pour vous rencontrer enfin!” He took her hand; she clasped his warmly with both of hers in return.

“Monsieur Laurent. Je suis si heureux de vous rencontrer, aussi. Mon mari et je veux vous remercier” _(“I’m so happy to meet you, too. My husband and I want to thank you”)_ Jennifer said, then switched to English. “I could never have found my way home without your kind, generous assistance. I – we – will be forever in your debt.” Jonathan looked at her as she spoke, his arm around her waist, adding his own words of thanks to hers.

Msr. Laurent was touched, observing their love for each other, and would always be glad he’d followed his instincts the day she came into his shop.

After a few minutes of pleasantries, Jonathan turned to her, saying, “Darling, I think we need to be heading to the airport, if we’re going to make our departure time.” They said their goodbyes and he showed her out to the car, then paused, snapped his fingers, and said, “ah, give me a moment, Darling – I think I left the keys inside.” She looked at him quizzically, fairly certain he hadn’t, but just nodded and got in the car to wait as he went back in the shop.

Msr. Laurent was waiting for him, a box on the counter. He opened it for his approval.

“Yes, that’s the one. Is everything ready?”

“Oui, Monsieur. I need only your signature, Mr. Hart. I hope Mrs. Hart will like it.”

“I’m sure she will. Thanks again, for everything. You will always have our gratitude. If there’s ever anything we can do to repay you, please don’t hesitate to let me know,” he said as they shook hands.

“Not at all, sir. It’s been a true pleasure meeting you both.”

Jonathan smiled and thanked him again, pocketing the velvet-covered case in his jacket pocket as he left.

When he got in the car, Jennifer gave him a sidelong glance, saying, “It sure took a long time to retrieve a set of keys…just what are you up to?”

“Nothing, Darling – just thanking Msr. Laurent again and telling him to let me know if he ever needs anything,” he said, not surprised that she was onto him already. 

“Uh huh,” was all she said, smiling and giving up.

*********

Soon enough for all of them, they were on the Hart Industries jet heading home. Herschel and Steve Markowicz had concluded their business with Detective Malone and met them at the airport. They got underway and Max suggested a game of gin to pass the time; they all readily agreed. After a while it was clear that Jennifer was on a roll. At the conclusion of a particularly disastrous hand for Jonathan, he threw in his cards, excusing himself.

“Chicken!” she said as he rose, a twinkle in her eye.

“Hardly! I’ll take you on for a re-match later – one on one,” he whispered in her ear, then kissed her head before going into their bedroom compartment. She laughed, and the others just grinned at each other. Steve looked a bit embarrassed, feeling as if he was intruding on a private moment between them; although it was well-known, he had never witnessed their loving banter firsthand before.

About fifteen minutes had passed as Jennifer continued to make them all look bad, when they all felt a change in the plane’s performance; they were definitely beginning to descend. Jennifer got a questioning look on her face – she knew it was much too early in the flight to have reached LA.

“What’s going on?” she asked of no one in particular.

“Ya got me, Mrs. H,” Max’s look of feigned ignorance didn’t fool her for a second. She narrowed her eyes at him, asking, “Where’s Jonathan? What’re you all up to?” Max shrugged, maintaining the innocent look but wise enough not to say anything this time. One look at Herschel and Steve made it obvious that they had no clue what was going on, either.

Putting her cards down, Jennifer rose and headed for the bedroom just as Jack turned on the “fasten your seatbelts” sign.

“Well, I guess that’s it for gin – thank god,” Herschel said, getting up from the table and moving to take a seat.

“Whatsamatter, Lieutenant?” Max grinned, not surprised when he got no response.

*********

Jennifer opened the door to the bedroom compartment, saying, “Jonathan, why are we - ” she stopped mid-sentence when she saw her husband, all decked out in a tuxedo, trying to fix his bowtie.

“Jonathan! What’s going on? What’re you up to?” She just looked at him, a hand going to her hip and a smile on her face. She couldn’t help observing how dashing, how handsome, he looked in that tux. Her heart raced a bit faster at the thought.

He just smiled, and, waving toward the bed, he said, “Darling, you’d better hurry up and get dressed. We’ll be landing soon.”

Her eyes followed his gesture and she saw a beautiful royal blue dress laid out on the bed. It was a lovely silk chiffon, and there was a matching silk pashmina wrap. He had even remembered to bring shoes. The rest she knew she’d find on board. Looking at him again, she said, “Just where are we going, that we need to get all dressed up?”

“Out.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Okay, okay – out to dinner. In San Francisco.”

“And?”

“Here, help me with this,” he asked, indicating the tie. She obliged, stepping closer to him and reaching up to straighten the tie. She enjoyed the close proximity to him that this allowed; it was a familiar step in their usual dance, whenever they went out.

“Dinner, hmm?”

“Yeah, for starters.” At her questioning look, he said, “C’mon, let me keep at least some secrets, some mystery, will ya?” She just smiled, letting him have his fun.

“Now get ready…I’ll have Jack go around the block a few times.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and ah, here’s a little something to go with that new dress,” he said with a boyish grin, a look of eager anticipation lighting up his face as he pulled a velvet case out of his jacket pocket. She opened it and gasped – inside was an exquisite diamond and sapphire necklace, the perfect complement to the new dress.

“Jonathan!” she exclaimed softly.

“Well, you needed something to go with that dress…I saw it in Msr. Laurent’s shop. Actually, I saw it there last week and, ah, bought the dress to go with it.” He smiled again, clearly pleased with himself.

“It’s beautiful! Thank you,” she said, wrapping her arms around him in a big hug.

“You’re welcome, Darling.” He kissed her, raising his hands to caress her face.

“You’d better get out of here or I’ll never have time to get ready,” she said, sorry their lips were parting, but enjoying the tease - it was another step in the dance.

“Okay,” he said in a low, reluctant whisper, smiling at her as he obeyed, backing out and closing the door behind him.

*********

When they’d arrived at the restaurant a short while later, the driver, Maurice, opened the door of the limo. As Jonathan was about to get out, he felt her hand on his arm and turned to look at her. When he saw her expression, he paused, indicating to Maurice to close the door again. He turned to face her.

“What is it, Darling?” The apprehension on her face was obvious.

“I just, don’t know if I’m really ready to go out and, ah, face the public quite yet, Darling.”

“How come?” he asked, reaching over caress her arm. “Are you worried about what people will think?”

She looked away for a moment, saying, “No – I don’t know – you know I don’t usually concern myself with what people think….” He could see the uncertainty in her eyes, however, when she met his gaze again.

“I know, Darling. Neither do I – we’d be paralyzed pretty much all of the time if we did. This time, though, it’s different - is that it?” 

“Maybe,” she acknowledged, looking down at her hands, clasped in her lap. “I don’t know…I feel, exposed, somehow – like I’ll be on display…no one is going to understand -”

He had guessed as much, and leaning toward her, he gently lifted her chin with his finger, so she would look in his eyes and see the truth in them. “Darling, it only matters that I understand – no one else has to. Am I right?”

She smiled at him, closing her eyes and nodding in agreement, grateful for the millionth time for the love of this man beside her.

“In any case, why do you think we’re here in San Francisco?” Jonathan went on. “I thought it would be better for us to make our first appearance here, rather than in Los Angeles. No one knows we’re here; if anyone notices it will just be in passing – it doesn’t have to be especially noteworthy. Nobody here knows what happened, and I’ll do my damnedest to be sure no one does. And besides, I reserved a cozy, private table for this very special occasion.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

She knew her fears were irrational – nothing of her return or the circumstances of her abduction and time away was public knowledge, but she knew the truth probably could not stay hidden forever, much as he would try to make it so. And while she had never cared before, this time things _were_ different – and exactly the kind of thing tabloids and society pages loved to reveal. It was just too personal; she wanted it all to fade away, for her return to be accepted and not scrutinized – she wanted to be left alone with her husband. 

She put her hand on top of his, took a deep breath and relented. She loved that he wanted to give her a special evening out, and she would enjoy it. It would be just the two of them, for as long as they could make it last. And, perhaps, she would be able to help him let go of his own troubled feelings, that he was hiding so well.

*********

They did indeed have a lovely meal – the wait staff made sure they were left alone in a private, cozy corner, and they had no interruptions. Jennifer could have stayed there all evening just talking and flirting with him, but before too long he was asking for the check and almost rushing her out the door. 

“Come on, Darling, or we’ll be late.”

“Late? Where are we going now?” She couldn’t imagine what he had up his sleeve now…but he’d always been one to come up with a good surprise now and then. She just didn’t know when he’d had time to plan any of this.

He kept her occupied with small talk to distract her as they rode in the limo, wanting her to be surprised; and she truly was when they pulled up in front of the War Memorial Opera House in the Historic District.

“Jonathan! Are you actually taking me to the opera?” she exclaimed, a pleased – and very surprised – look on her face.

“Yes, Darling, and of my own free will, too.” He grinned at her, happy with her reaction. She just laughed delightedly, and they made their way inside the beautiful structure. Built in 1932 to honor San Franciscans in the first world war, the hall was stunning and she’d always loved it. It wasn’t often that they were able to attend a performance here; she didn’t know how he’d gotten tickets at what had to be the last minute. She was very touched that he’d even thought of it.

Jonathan had managed to get very good seats in the loge, and they made their way in with just enough time to spare. The opera being performed was _La Traviata_ by Giuseppe Verdi, a popular favorite and one he was sure they must have seen performed before by the LA Opera. Of course, he knew Jennifer would be quite familiar with it, as she was a true opera lover. He tried…he could appreciate the music and recognized a great deal of it, but he just couldn’t seem to get involved in the whole spectacle of opera the way his wife did. He dedicated himself to trying not to fall asleep during this particular performance; to his surprise, he found himself caught up in the obvious love story, making it easier to pay attention.

Because she had not seen an opera in a very long time, Jennifer was captivated from the very first note and the first act went by quickly. It was during the second act that Jennifer noticed two things: first, that her husband seemed unusually attentive to what was happening on stage, and second, that she, surprisingly enough, was not. She stole a glance at him – he was not sleeping; in fact, he seemed quite absorbed. She filed that away for future reference. Jonathan had interlaced his fingers with hers at some point after Act II began, and was now absently rubbing his thumb along hers…it was this she was finding so distracting, she realized. Once she noticed, she could not stop noticing – it increasingly had her thinking of things not at all related to the drama onstage. She wondered if he had any idea how he was affecting her right at that moment…another glance told her that he did not. It became all she could do to sit there until the act was over and they had an intermission.

As the curtain fell on the second act, Jonathan looked over at Jennifer, who was looking at him with a rather peculiar expression; she said nothing, however, except that she needed to stretch her legs.

“Would you like some champagne?” he asked.

“Thank you, Darling, I’d love it,” she answered, and they got up to go out to the lobby. Jennifer left him to find her way to the ladies’ room, agreeing to meet him by the concessions.

Jonathan stood patiently in line, and when he had their glasses of champagne he turned and nearly bumped into an older, rather matronly woman, who, upon seeing him, batted her eyelashes and exclaimed, “Why, Mr. Hart! What on earth brings you to San Francisco?”

“Mrs. Biddlecomb, how are you?”

“I’m fine, dear, but I must say I don’t hear the same of you.”

Jonathan knew what she was alluding to, of course…last week, the nosy comment would have bothered him tremendously – but then, last week, he wouldn’t have been out at all. He just let it slide as he looked around for Jennifer.

The woman caught his eye again and persisted, “I didn’t think you were getting out much at all, these days, even in Los Angeles. What brings you to the opera here in San Francisco?”

He looked back at her, then with considerable charm and an almost wicked gleam in his eye that was lost on his audience, he said, “I’m on a date. If you’ll excuse me…?” he raised the glasses of champagne to indicate he needed to move on. He walked away, pleased with his retort, leaving Mrs. Biddlecomb with her mouth hanging open.

He glanced around the crowded lobby and finally saw her, leaning gracefully against an ornate pillar, her arms crossed in front of her; she had already found him through the sea of people and was waiting for him in a less-crowded area of the lobby. He had to pause to admire her, his breath catching in his throat; she looked stunning in the new dress he’d chosen for her - he’d known instantly that it was the one. The bodice was constructed of silk pleats that gracefully outlined the contours of her bosom, and the elegant silk chiffon skirt seemed to float gently like a breeze to the floor. She was smiling but that look of slight apprehension could be seen in her face as well. She turned as he took up a spot next to her by the pillar.

“Thank you, Darling,” she said, taking a sip as he handed her the glass of champagne. “What did you say to Mrs. Biddlecomb? She looks positively scandalized.”

“I told her the truth – that I’m on a date,” he said, a devilish grin on his face now.

“Jonathan, you didn’t!” She had to laugh. 

“I did, and yes she was, but she’ll be fine when she realizes who my date is.” He had positioned himself so he could see the older woman, who had turned to her companions and was whispering – he could just hear it – _“Jonathan Hart has moved on, he’s on a date, and his lovely wife missing only a few short months!”_ He didn’t care – knowing she was an old gossip, he hadn’t been able to resist toying with her a little.

“And it looks like that will be any second – she’s headed this way.”

The look was back, as she glanced behind her and saw that he was right – and that Mrs. Biddlecomb had seen her; the look of surprise and shock on the woman’s face was plain. “Jonathan, I really do not want to talk to that woman,” she said, a trace of urgency in her voice.

“Okay, Darling. This way,” he said, feeling contrite now. Touching Jennifer’s elbow, he guided her away from the lobby, toward an escape down a side aisle of the theatre. Glancing back, he saw that Mrs. Biddlecomb looked undeterred; he frowned, until the chimes signaling the end of the intermission interceded on their behalf and the woman turned away with her friends. 

Jonathan found that he couldn’t be completely unhappy that the woman had seen Jennifer, though; he’d rather the correct rumors get started, since rumors were inevitable, anyway. While he knew that this kind of chance meeting was sure to be repeated in the foreseeable future and that they’d have to deal with it, this was their first night out and he would not have that old busybody interfering with it. 

But he turned his thoughts back to his wife, who was looking more relaxed as they made their way down the corridor. They stopped around a bend, out of sight of the lobby and waited, sipping their champagne as other patrons passed by, returning to their seats.

After a few minutes, Jonathan said, “Darling, hadn’t we better be getting back to our seats?”

But she just smiled and shook her head, her full attention focused on him now as she took a last sip of champagne. She was definitely enjoying the view. 

“Un uh,” was all she said.

He took their now-empty glasses and walked a few feet to place them on a waiting tray. As he turned and went back to her, he could feel her gaze on him, could feel it proceed from head to toe and back again. It made his pulse race.

He stopped next to her and leaned against the wall, asking, “Don’t you want to see the rest of the opera?”

Jennifer was feeling the pleasant buzz she always got with a good glass of the bubbly, as well as the usual sensation of looking at him in a tuxedo – god, how she loved to see him in a tux! She thought again of how he’d caressed her hand during Act II - and doubted sitting through another act or two of that would be bearable; indeed, she knew that finishing the opera would be a hopeless exercise in futility and frustration. That Jonathan actually seemed to be enjoying it was something to be encouraged – but at another time. 

So she stepped closer to him, so close they were almost, but not quite, touching. She raked her eyes over his body again, and ran a fingertip down the studs of his tuxedo shirt. Then she looked deeply into his eyes and said in a soft yet sultry voice, “Jonathan, Darling…I know how it ends.”

Her words and tone of voice instantly stopped him from speaking – he’d been about to say, only half teasing, how much he was enjoying the opera, and that he actually wanted to see how it ended. But now he couldn’t have spoken, or dragged his eyes from hers, if he’d wanted to; the look in their beautiful depths confirmed what her words had suggested – that there would be no more opera for them tonight. They stood there looking at each other for a few seconds, then turned together and headed for the lobby; he held her hand, his thumb again rubbing along hers in a way that made her blood rush faster. 

“One moment, Darling.” As he walked away, Jennifer immediately felt a sense of loss, her skin tingling where his hand had held hers. Returning with her wrap, he placed it around her shoulders, then found the valet and handed him the ticket for their car. They moved outside into the cool night air to wait. When Jonathan would have kept going, Jennifer gripped his hand tighter, stopping to lean back against the wall of one of the many arches that made up the hall’s façade. He stopped and turned toward her.

“Jonathan – kiss me,” she said softly. He smiled as he stepped closer and tilted his head, happy to oblige her. Her arms went around his neck, and his hands came to rest on her waist.

Jennifer’s lips were soft and yielding against his own, and Jonathan’s body responded as it always had…it couldn’t resist doing so. But then her lips grazed a spot that was tender; remembering how it had gotten that way, an image of Scott Bonsaint made its way into his brain, and the taunts of the day before crowded into his thoughts. And in this quiet, intimate moment, he found himself thinking about that other man’s lips on hers…that his hands had touched her, had caressed her, had…. He tried to shut out these thoughts – he firmly believed that the woman who had lived in that cabin had not been his Jennifer…the essence of who she was, and that made her his and his alone, had not been there in the cabin, not in all that time. And yet another man had known her body…he broke off the kiss and looked down, away, as he heard the car pull up. He knew he had to get control of these thoughts…he didn’t want her to know, and be hurt by them.

Jennifer was aroused further by his kiss; it only heightened the sensations she’d felt when he had caressed her hand in the theatre…she had never been able to resist even the slightest touch from him. But then she felt his fingers tighten, digging into her hips…did his mouth harden as he ended the kiss? She opened her eyes as their lips parted and caught a glimpse of his expression before he could look away and put a shield in place. His eyes were cloudy, troubled, like they had been the day before, telling her what was going through his mind. She saw also that he was struggling to dispel those thoughts. His hands at her waist, his touch, seemed possessive then, territorial…she understood why, and while she was his to possess, the thought of the lingering, emotional pain behind that touch made her heart ache, wondering if he doubted her, in addition to the rest. She, too, looked away as the limo pulled up, deciding then and there that he would not spend a moment longer than necessary with those thoughts and fears, that uncertainty. She wanted him, only him, forever - and she would see to it that he got that message loud and clear. 

The limo had pulled up and stopped, and Maurice got out and opened the door for them as they descended down the steps from the hall. Jonathan handed her into the car then followed, Maurice closing the door behind them.

*********

Jonathan had no sooner gotten into the back seat than Jennifer was sliding over to pin him against the side of the limo. Their eyes met for just a split second – and in that singular moment, the mix of emotions in her face went straight to his heart. In the low light of the limo, her eyes were dark and luminous; there was a touch of sadness in them, making him realize that she knew – knew the insecurity and doubt he had been silently struggling with since the day before, when Bonsaint had taunted him so cruelly, commenting on events that Jonathan would rather have ignored…that he’d rather had remained silently relegated to the life of a woman he hadn’t known, whom he had kept separated, in his mind and heart, from the woman he loved.

So Jonathan’s heart ached with the understanding that she had read him so completely, and that it must have hurt her to see his doubt about something he had said was behind them, forgiven. Even as he had tried to deal with it on his own and not let it show, still she had known. He closed his eyes for a moment against the sorrow of that truth; he had not wanted her to sense it from him.

That split-second glance was all he had before her hands pressed him against the seat and began roaming over his arms and chest as she accosted him with a sound, passionate kiss, trying to physically convey her immediate desire for him. Unprepared for her attack, his eyes flew open and he tried to draw back so he could look at her, but she shook her head slightly, whispering his name, her voice filled with an urgency that surprised him and made his heart begin to beat faster. Then she kissed him again, giving him no opportunity to speak as her lips parted and her tongue sought his. 

He reached up automatically to hold her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, fingers playing with her hair at her neck - it was a gesture that came naturally to him and elicited a soft moan from her throat as she said his name again through her kisses. 

Jennifer continued to explore his mouth with a single-minded intensity. Her hands moved to peel his tuxedo jacket off his shoulders - he had to lean forward to shrug out of it - she proceeded next to his bowtie, then to the studs of his shirt. She couldn’t release them fast enough to suit her and so just ripped his shirt open, hearing them pop off – but she didn’t care as she continued her efforts to undress him, pulling the shirt-tails from his pants. She pushed his shirt off of his shoulders, still kissing him. His muscles flexed as he leaned forward, reaching behind to remove his shirt, pulling his still-buttoned sleeves off with a struggle; she ran her hands over his arms and shoulders, then back to his chest, further aroused by the feel of his muscles under her fingertips. Next her hands made their way down to deftly unfasten his pants; then she reluctantly broke the kiss, her lips tingling, slightly swollen and full from her almost rough plundering of his mouth. 

When her lips were suddenly gone from his, her face receding from his touch, he opened his eyes and saw her sitting back; she pulled on his legs until he was reclining more on the seat, then began tugging on his pants. As she did so she paused to look up at him again, and this time what he saw heartened him greatly, and helped to ease the fears that had crept into his mind. The touch of sadness was gone, replaced with an intense look of pure love, unconditional and unyielding; he also saw blatant, sexual desire, and knew it to be only for him – a thrill coursed through his body at the sight of it.

Jonathan was also blown away by her boldness, her obvious need of him; while she often took the initiative in their lovemaking, she was rarely quite so brazen about it. As he got over his initial surprise, it was as if he came alive again, his skin burning at the touch of her hands, the feel of her mouth on his. Extremely aroused by her actions, his body responded eagerly.

Through the very intensity of her passion and desire for him, he knew instinctively that she was telling him, without uttering a word, exactly what he meant to her. She was telling him how much she loved him, how much she needed him, how much she wanted him - only him; that no other man had ever mattered so much to her as he did, that no other man ever would. That no other man could give her what he could, and that he had no reason to be jealous, no reason to fear, no reason to doubt. That she would erase any thoughts to the contrary that were tormenting him, just as he had helped ease the pain she had suffered from, too.

All of this passed through Jonathan’s mind in those few moments when her eyes sought his again, but he could not have articulated any of it. He simply knew it, felt it, and any thoughts of another man lying next to her melted away, erased from his mind by her loving actions. He found that he could hardly think at all - her passionate desire for him _right now_ enveloped him as if in a blinding light, and he could see and feel nothing but her in it. He responded with a loving, passionate, almost impatient need that equaled hers, feeling a great urgency building within him that left him breathless in his desire for her – to touch her, to feel her skin against his own, to be inside her…he longed to pour himself back into her, body and soul, just as she completed him in the same way, offering him the very essence of herself.

Still in awe of and turned on by her possessive, dominant actions, he raised his hips, allowing her to tug on his pants. But before he could kick them all of the way off, she was already moving to straddle him, her still silk-encased legs pressed firmly against his sides. His mind reeling, he moaned and called her name as she lifted her skirt out of the way until it cascaded down over them, soft and ticklish. Back within his reach, he no longer hesitated, running his hands under the skirt and up her thighs. She was already settling down over him when he realized…he threw her a questioning glance, eyebrows raised, to which she only arched an eyebrow in reply, her lips curving into a sensual smile as she leaned over him, closed her eyes, and engaged his mouth in another deep kiss, their tongues mingling and clashing, her hands going to his face. Much as he loved the feel of her skin next to his, Jonathan found the sensation of the chiffon against his bare torso, and her lack of anything on underneath it, extremely erotic.

The urgency of their mutual desire overtook them and he gripped her hips under the skirt as she sat up and rocked above him. She called out his name and reached for him – he took her hand, grasping her fingers, interlacing them in his own and holding on tightly. She braced herself against the strength in his arm as their bodies moved in harmony and they were caught up in their passion for each other, culminating in a mutual release. Jonathan thought he had never experienced such an agonizingly sweet yet powerful climax – god, what she could do to him! She left him completely breathless, his world spinning around him. As he gradually came back down to earth, he found her collapsed against his chest, limp, her heart beating a staccato rhythm to match his own, her fingers still entwined loosely with his. He squeezed them, and they lay quietly together for awhile, unaware of the time passing.

“Jennifer!” he whispered at last, his voice nearly breaking as he kissed her head, raising a hand to stroke her hair.

Resting now with her ear pressed to his chest, Jennifer smiled and listened to the slowing beat of his heart. She felt fulfilled, sated, her love and attraction for him stronger than it had perhaps ever been. She was also quite pleased with herself - that she could still surprise him, that her solution for helping him resolve his anguished thoughts appeared to have worked beautifully. She could hear it in his voice when he said her name; it was all the confirmation she really needed. 

“I love you,” she whispered. He wrapped both arms around her and hugged her tightly against him in response. She was again so overwhelmed with the heightened emotions they had both been experiencing that a stray tear escaped and ran onto his chest. Also feeling the extreme emotions between them, he just hugged her all the more close, and pressed his lips against her hair.

“Ahhh, Jennifer, Darling – thank you,” he whispered as he caressed her back lightly, his head resting lightly now against hers.

“What for?” she said softly, with a light laugh, although she thought she knew.

“For telling me so, ah, directly, how much you love me, and need me.”

She moved so she could look into his face. “I’m glad you got the message, Jonathan, because I do love you, I do need you – more than you may ever truly know.”

“But I do know, because I feel the same for you.”

She smiled, then paused, glancing down for a moment, her fingers tracing circles and curlicues along his chest. “No one else has ever been able to affect me so deeply, Jonathan…with just a kiss, or a touch, or a look. I know that no on else ever will.” She looked into his face again and was relieved to see no trace of his former unease.

“No one?”

“No - never. Just you. Only you,” she whispered.

Jonathan had let go of his worry and doubt as she’d shown him her love, but it felt good to hear the words spoken from her heart as well. “You are the only woman I’ve ever wanted, or needed, or loved so completely, with all my heart and soul. You are everything to me.” His voice was filled with love and admiration; it acquired a sultry and slightly teasing quality as he went on. “I must say, you really did surprise me – and it was just the jolt I needed. You’re incredible.”

“I was inspired,” she answered softly, propping her chin on his chest, where she could continue to look into his eyes.

“Apparently.” He grinned at her.

“Only you can arouse such desire in me – just by rubbing my hand.”

He looked confused, but smiled. “Ah, that’s all it took, huh?”

She nodded, saying, “Mhmm. During Act II.”

At his blank look, she said with a smile and a teasing look in her eyes, “You were caressing my hand with your thumb…you don’t remember…you had no idea how you were affecting me in there, did you?”

“Ah, no, Darling, as a matter of fact, I didn’t – at least, not until you made it plain to me in the hallway back there.” 

“Well I didn’t think I’d make it until the end of the act, let alone until we could get out of there,” she said, her eyes sparkling at the memory.

He smiled, recalling then that he’d been holding her hand during the opera…he’d been so caught up in the performance that he hadn’t realized he was doing it. It amazed him, even after all of their years together, that a simple gesture could have had such a profound effect on her that they’d had to leave the first opera she’d seen in months. 

Jonathan felt overwhelmed at how fortunate he was to have her back in his arms again, looking at him with that loving expression that was meant for him alone, that he knew she had never given to anyone else. He held her close to him again in a strong embrace.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how absorbed you were by the opera, Darling,” she said, teasing him. 

Neatly sidestepping that comment (while knowing it would come up again someday) he said, “You know, I don’t, ah, recall exactly what I was doing to get you so aroused…why don’t you show me? I think I may want to file it away for future reference.”

She smiled, propped herself up on one arm against his chest so she could reach for his hand. Taking it in her own, she interlaced her fingers with his again, gently caressing the tender spot between his thumb and forefinger, as he’d been doing to hers.

“Well, now…that’s nice,” he said huskily as he began to caress the outer edge of her thumb. “Like this?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” was all she could say, smiling and biting her lip as his touch yet again left a trail of burning sensation that began spreading up her arm and over her body, arousing her desire anew. She looked up at him and saw him looking at her fondly, lovingly, a slight smile curving his lips, yet with his desire for her showing plainly in his eyes. Her breath quickened in response, and she felt her heartbeat accelerate as well as he moved his hand, wrapping it around hers and lifting her palm to his lips. Then he continued to the inside of her wrist, smiling at her deep intake of breath. Unable to be as close as he needed, reclined as he was, he sat up, holding her close as his lips continued their way up her arm to her shoulder, her throat, until finally he crushed her beautiful, full lips to his again. They remained liplocked, making out like teenagers, both happy to draw out the kiss until it seemed to stretch on forever.

Jonathan felt renewed by this confirmation of her love; it was like a wave washing over him, releasing the tight ache in his chest. His passion and need for her was growing, but this time he intended to make it last. He kissed her neck now in that most tender spot; her head fell back, his name escaping her lips again as she ran her fingers through his hair. His mouth traced a path down her throat, then along the edge of the bodice of her dress and into the lovely valley of her cleavage. Wanting more access, his hands moved around to her back as he reached unerringly for the zipper of her gown. As it slipped down, pooling around her waist with the many yards of chiffon, he admired her beautiful body, running his fingertips lovingly along the delicate, lace edges of her strapless bra, then down her sides to her waist as he moved to kiss the swell of her breasts.

Jennifer thrilled at the feel of his strong arms around her, and felt her pulse quicken as he trailed his mouth over her, tingling with sensation as he lovingly made his way over her body, leaving a trail of fire everywhere his hands and lips went. She arched her back slightly to meet his roaming lips, breathing his name and running her hands over his muscular body. 

Jonathan held her close as he turned and swung his legs down over the edge of the seat, then ran his hands under her skirt again and over her thighs, her hips, as she moved to wrap her legs around him. As they made love again, it wasn’t so urgent, so frantic as it had been before, although it was every bit as sensual for them both. As she reached the heights of her passion for him, she called his name, unable to stop the torrent of sensation coursing through her. Jonathan held her close, supporting her, enjoying the pleasure he gave her. When she opened her eyes, feeling secure in his strong embrace, he was smiling at her, love shining from his eyes. She tilted her head to kiss him softly on the lips, her head still awhirl. 

Then Jonathan moved, turning over, his strong arms holding her against him, until she was lying under him on the seat of the limo, looking up into his smoldering eyes. She reveled in the feel of his weight against her, and eagerly met his lips with hers in a lingering, passionate kiss as he began to move with her again. 

And so, Jonathan and Jennifer reaffirmed their love for each other, both physically and emotionally, as their limo cruised slowly toward their destination. This moment, this outpouring of love between them, was the final stage in the healing of their relationship. The trials and anguish they’d suffered as others sought to divide them began to fade away, to recede further and further from their minds, as they found perfect harmony between them again, at last.


	25. Epilogue

**Part Twenty-five**

_One look in your eyes and there I see  
Just what you mean to me  
Here in my heart I believe  
Your love is all I'll ever need  
Holdin' you close through the night  
I need you, yeah  
  
I look in your eyes and there I see  
What happiness really means  
The love that we share makes life so sweet  
Together we'll always be  
This pledge of love feels so right  
And, ooh, I need you  
  
_

_When I look in your eyes, there I'll see  
All that a love should really be  
And I need you more and more each day  
Nothin' can take your love away  
More than I dare to dream  
I need you  
  
\- Luther Vandross, “Here and Now”_

*********

(Thursday, June 3rd)

Jennifer was enjoying their drive up the coast, thinking back to the lovely evening Jonathan had given her the night before, which had ended in one final surprise – arriving at their inn in the Napa Valley. They may not have their honeymoon bed any longer, but the place was still special to them, still magical. She smiled at her newest memory of a night spent there with him.

Jonathan pulled the car over to the side of the road, fairly certain this was the spot, despite the light fog that was still hanging over the cliffs in the late morning air.

“Why are we stopping here?” Jennifer asked, looking over at him.

“Well, I thought we might enjoy a quiet picnic.”

“Ohh. Sounds nice,” was all she said, smiling and looking at him in that special way she reserved only for him…a look that still sent a thrill through him every time.

He got a large blanket and the picnic basket out of the trunk, and they crossed the road, heading toward the sound of the surf. The road had curved away from the shore and they had a short walk to reach it. They paused at the rocky cliffside, admiring the view that came and went in the swirling mist.

“How beautiful!” she said.

“Yes, very.” Hearing that special tone in his voice, she turned to find him looking at her, not the scene before them, and just smiled, reaching for his hand.

He smiled back and said, “Come with me,” leading her toward a hidden path off to the side. 

“You know I’d go with you anywhere.” She squeezed his hand as they started off down the path.

They walked in silence for several minutes, enjoying the quiet peacefulness of the trees and fog surrounding them, and emerged from the small woods to find the trail descending to a small beach cove. She stopped by the edge of the sand.

“Oh Jonathan, how did you ever find this place?”

“The innkeeper recommended it this morning. It’s private land, so with luck we won’t be interrupted.” He set the basket and blanket down and pulled her into his arms. “Are you surprised?”

“Yes – it’s wonderful! And you’re just full of surprises these days. But aren’t we a bit overdressed for the beach?” she asked.

“Well, I don’t think we’ll be doing any swimming, if that’s what you mean. The water is probably pretty chilly.”

“Let’s see!” she said, kicking off her shoes and heading at a run toward the water, glad to have a dress on so she could wade easily. He removed his own shoes and rolled up his pants, then followed her.

After a while they returned for the blanket and picnic basket, sitting down in a more sheltered spot to enjoy their lunch.

*********

Jennifer awoke slowly; she’d fallen asleep against Jonathan’s shoulder after they’d finished their picnic. From the position of the sun, some time had passed. Looking at him, she saw that he too had fallen asleep. Feeling a little stiff, she sat up, gently moving the arm he’d had around her to his chest. Then she wrapped her own arms around her knees, leaning lightly against him as she gazed out at the ocean. She’d always felt an incredible sense of peace by the ocean – there was a special quality to the sound of the water, and the seemingly endless view, that both pleased and soothed her.

Jonathan, always a light sleeper, roused a few minutes later, sensing that she had moved. He reached up to caress her back, and she turned to smile at him. Then he sat up, positioning himself just behind her and to the side, where he could wrap his arms around her. She took advantage of his close proximity and leaned back against his chest, reaching up to hold his arms and enjoying the closeness of his embrace. Together they simply sat there, taking in the view. The day had warmed, burning off the fog; they could see blue skies now above them. 

Looking out to sea, Jonathan thought he could see eternity across the great expanse of water and sky, and also that he could feel it, right there, with her in his arms again. Jennifer smiled as he leaned in to kiss her neck, enjoying the feel of his breath, his lips, soft and warm against her skin.

“Jennifer.” He said her name softly. She leaned closer against him, squeezing his arms.

He went on, speaking softly in her ear. “Not a moment went by that I wasn’t thinking of you – we may have been separated by time and distance, but you never left my heart.”

Jennifer felt her throat tighten at his words and closed her eyes, saying softly, “Even when my mind was clouded, Jonathan, my heart remembered. And when I was ready, it showed me the way home, to you.”

“I’ve been in love with you ever since we first met.” He held her more tightly as he went on. “That day in London, when you agreed to marry a man you barely knew - that was the happiest day of my life. I could see a lifetime of love stretching out before me, a love I hadn’t known could exist. And you’ve shown me what is possible.”

Smiling as his words washed over her, Jennifer answered him. “Jonathan, that day in London, I agreed to marry a man my heart and soul had always known. I knew then that we were meant to be together always. It was the first of a lifetime of happiest days I’ve shared with you.” 

She paused, looking out to sea, then, resting her head against him again, she went on. “For a long time the knowledge of those days was lost to me. Then for a little while I was afraid I’d lose the happiness we’ve shared. My heart knew it would always belong to you; it never lost its way, it trusted your heart completely. But even when I couldn’t remember, I never felt so lost as I did when I thought I might lose you. You gave me back the hope for many more happiest days to come.”

He hugged her tightly again, pressing his lips to her hair. “The last five months have been the worst of my life, but I never gave up hope that I’d find you again. Instead, you found me. Now, I want only to be with you, and to look forward again with you - not back.”

She twisted around so she could look into his eyes, reaching up to caress his face as she said, “Jonathan, when I look into your eyes, I, too, see what is possible – I see eternity. Your love is all I’ve ever needed for my life to be complete.”

“Jennifer, I love you. Without reservation, without doubt. For eternity.”

Jonathan rose then and, reaching for her hands, pulled her up and into his arms. Holding each other, it was as if everything else just melted away to insignificance, until there was only the two of them, joined in a kiss as soft and loving and passionate as any they’d ever shared. All that mattered was them, right then, right there on that beach, and there was nothing else. 

Finally, their lips parted, and they looked deeply into each other’s eyes. 

“Walk with me?” he asked, taking her hands in his again.

She nodded, smiling, and, their arms around each other, they turned and walked down the beach, toward eternity - together.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> The characters of Jonathan and Jennifer Hart, Max, Lt. Grey, and Dr. Susan Kendall, are based on the originals on the series (no infringement intended). Jennifer Smith, Scott Bonsaint and Angelo DeBartelli were created by Kris, as well as some others (Dr. Blaurosen, Michael Hadley, Miranda Long). I created Detectives Steven Markowicz and Malone, Susanna, Dr. Chloe Hamilton, and a few miscellaneous others.
> 
> Kris opened her story with lyrics from a song; I took that idea and ran with it, opening each chapter with a new one.


End file.
